


The Odds Are Never In Our Favor

by MalikShah



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Like really slow, M/M, No graphic depictions of rape or sexual assault, Slow Burn, every warning for aftg and the hunger games, people will die I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 258,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11162910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikShah/pseuds/MalikShah
Summary: “A truly exciting development here in District 12. Let’s see who will be the other brave tribute traveling to the Capitol this year.” She simply grabbed the first slip she encountered and walked back to the podium.Neil didn’t even have time to wish for his own safety when she read the name.“Neil Josten.”A simple The Hunger Games AU because apparently the Foxes haven't suffered enough already.





	1. The Reaping

**Author's Note:**

> So welcome to this giant fic I set myself up with because I don't know how to enjoy things moderately.  
> This fic will follow loosely the plot of The Hunger Games books but you will soon realize I took many liberties, simply because I wanted to and Neil and Andrew are very much different from Katniss and Peeta.  
> I admit I am rereading the books while I am writing this fic because it's been years and my memory is shit lol Also English is not my native language so please let me know if you notice anything strange (and you will I am somewhat doomed to use my native language's grammar which often looks weird applied to English)!

It was still dark outside when Neil woke with a start, heart pounding in his chest and the smell of smoke and burning flesh lingering in his nose.

The memory of fire and blood felt as fresh as if it only had happened yesterday and not almost a year ago. In the gray light filtering through the curtains of his bedroom, Neil tried to find blood and sand on his hands and beneath his fingernails, but naturally came up with nothing.

Almost a full year had passed with Neil being on his own. No one was left to tell him to move faster, to keep his head low, a bruising grip on the back of his head and harsh fingers tangled in his hair. His mother would beat him senseless could she see him now.

Quiet, as if someone could hear him in this rundown shack that he had called his home since his arrival in District 12, he slipped out of his bed and went over to the rusty bucket filled with ice cold water. Clenching his jaw, Neil ducked his head in the water and forced any lingering memory of his mother down into a dark corner of his brain where it could fester and blindside him another time.

District 12 in all its dirty glory was the furthest from the Capitol (which had played a big role in Neil’s decision where to go after his mother took her last breath on some desolate beach between District 4 and 11) and usually was left out from official Capitol visitors because no one was interested in seeing misery and hunger when they could also watch healthy fishermen and women in District 4 or the cutting of gemstones in District 1.

The only time in the year when District 12 became as dangerous as any other District to Neil was the day of The Reaping.

With a nervous flutter in his chest Neil looked up and into the small broken mirror on the wall over the sink. Running water and electricity were only for two or three hours available here, so most people used candles for light and buckets or wooden tubs for washing.

Out of habit Neil checked his hair for any signs of red roots that might stand out in the black mess on his head and inspected the colored irises of his eyes. Even though he couldn’t see much in the dark, he was satisfied that his eyes still held the dark brown he had colored them roughly two weeks ago.

It was infinitely more difficult to get the long lasting hair and eye dye from the Capitol in District 12. His mother’s contact, who had made it possible for Neil to slip in unseen, lived in District 12’s Merchant section. She had given Neil his new identity, matched his blood sample with the new ID and also provided him with necessary items from the Capitol. Everything for a nice reward obviously. The problem started with Neil’s current residence that was located in the poorest part of the district, called the Seam. It was the closest to the border fence and next to the wild forests.

The Seam provided the fastest way out in case of an emergency, but also had by far the ugliest conditions to live with. Neil wasn’t sure if he had seen any of the residents as anything else but dirty and emaciated, faces smudged with coal and dust. Apparently death through starvation was not uncommon in this part of District 12.

Still, Neil liked it. No one asked him where his parents were or about the shabby clothes he wore. The people lived day in, day out in a monotonous routine. Most of them worked in the mine to feed their family which often involved 12 hours days and little to no space for another abandoned orphan in their lives. For them, Neil had been brought into 12 as a punishment. The Capitol didn’t think much of prisons; there were only two ways of dealing with criminals in Panem: death or deportation— usually to the poorer districts 10, 11 and 12.

But no matter how beneficial these living conditions were for Neil, it made things harder to find a reasonable excuse to go into the well off (by District 12 standards) Merchant’s section and ask his mother’s contact for expensive Capitol products that would hide his appearance from prying eyes.

The hair dye may last for another two weeks, but his artificial eye color would soon wear off and blue would start to bleed back into the brown of his eyes. No matter the continuous development in technology and science, there was still no permanent solution for physical alteration.

Tugging his hair out of his eyes, Neil straightened himself and went over to the curtains to let the early morning light in. He had to find a way around the Peacekeepers in the Merchant’s section soon and maybe get an ample supply this time.

With a knot in his stomach, Neil thought about the shrinking stash of money in the well-worn backpack in his closet. He needed to keep it tight. Maybe he should start hunting again for food and trading on District 12’s black market. He didn’t need much, just enough.

Outside, the early workers were already gearing up for work, mostly men that exchanged kisses with their wives on doorsteps and hugged their children. Today everything seemed a little more prolonged, father’s held their daughters tighter and pressed endless kisses on their son’s foreheads. Neil swallowed against the lump in his throat.

His mother would strangle him if she could see him now. Beat him and then urge him to pack his stuff and meet her at the fence in half an hour.

Today was the first time ever Neil would take part in the Reaping.

His mother’s contacts could only do so much, but once he got registered in a district he was in their system. His name would end up with hundreds of other children between 13 and 19, ready to be drawn and sent on their way to die for the amusement of the Capitol’s citizens.

Ever since he had run with his mother from his murderous father, they had never stayed long enough to see his name drawn. His small stature helped them long enough to make him seem younger than 13, and once that wouldn’t work anymore, his mother had him on the road days before the Reaping.

Slowly breathing in and out while counting from 100 backwards in his head, Neil tried to calm down. He was 18 years old. His name was in six times, for every passing year one time.

He should have made himself younger. He should have run. Why wouldn’t he just run?

_ Where to? _ A small voice whispered inside his head, and Neil chewed nervously on his lower lip. He had nowhere to go. His mother’s contact had assured him that the chance of his name being drawn was rather small, compared to people who had put their names in many more times, be it for money or food. Maybe he would be lucky.

Even though he had never been lucky in his life before.

Neil watched the farewells outside his window only for a moment longer before he put on some loose shorts (the only pair he owned), a holey cotton shirt and his dusty leather boots and went out for a run.

This early in the morning the air was still chilly and the wind felt good on his sweaty skin. Soon the sun would rise fully and with it an unbearable heat that would make the gathering in the center of the town for the Reaping as torturous as the procedure itself. 

Neil enjoyed running. It gave his body something to do and took his mind off of distracting thoughts and lurking memories. His mind would fall in a senseless buzz while his feet flew over the dusty road and his heart pounded steadily in his chest.

He had almost reached the end of the Seam when he heard his name being called. He turned around to the source and saw Mr. Hernandez — or rather Coach Hernandez how everyone seemed to call the man — on the front porch of a small house, waving and smiling.

“Neil! Good morning! You’re already up?”

Awkwardly shuffling with his feet, Neil was unsure if he should go closer or if this was just some sort of small talk. He nodded however and managed a quiet “Good morning” in return.

He felt himself shrink under the scrutinizing look of the older man and wished to just return to his running.

“You already had breakfast?” Coach Hernandez asked eventually, and to Neil’s own astonishment over his stupidity, he found himself shaking his head.

Grinning like he just had a major breakthrough, Coach Hernandez beckoned Neil to come closer. “Come on in then, kid. Rena just set the table.”

The thought of Coach Hernandez’s wife smiling at him and asking him about his week made Neil almost turn around instantly and run as fast as he could. He stopped himself though and forced a pathetic smile on his face to wave Coach Hernandez off.

“No thank you, sir. I’m fine.”

With pursed lips the coach put his hands on his hips and shook his head slightly. However, before he could say something, the front door of the house opened and a short woman with thick black hair and twinkling eyes poked her head out.

“Is that Neil I’m hearing?” she asked no one in particular, and her look fell upon Neil. The corners of her lips lifted in a happy smile, and she stepped out to join her husband.

“Come on in, Neil! I got fresh bread just yesterday. The old bear over here can be a real sweet talker if he wants to, seduced the loaf right out the baker’s hands.” She tapped her husband’s shoulder once before she vanished inside the house again. Neil couldn’t even object because Coach Hernandez just gave him a solemn nod and a wink as he followed his wife, but waited for Neil to join him in the doorway.

Neil had no idea what he was doing. He had no intention of getting to know any people here. Even though the coach and Rena had tried to talk to him many times before (sometimes with more success than other times), they always did so with genuine smiles and probably good intentions. Nothing Neil was particularly interested in, as too much interest in him threw up too many questions he could not answer.

Nevertheless, he followed Coach Hernandez inside the small house and to the kitchen that admittedly smelled wonderful, and Neil’s traitorous stomach growled audibly at it.

No one commented on it though, and Rena served them the bread from the day before, followed by scrambled eggs, warm milk, honey, jam and to Neil’s surprise, butter.

The breakfast felt unexpectedly  _ nice _ , Neil thought. The Hernandezes chatted away any awkward silence that could have befallen them and didn’t ask Neil any questions that couldn’t be answered with a short “yes”, “no” or “nothing”.

Eventually, it was time for Neil to head back though; he still had to wash up and panic in silence about his questionable life choices and everything that lead up to today’s Reaping, which could bring him right back into the Capitol’s claws and therefore right under his father’s eyes.

For a dark second Neil wondered if his father would rather watch him get killed in the games, or if he would do the job himself. He leaned strongly toward the latter.

Back on the front porch, Neil thanked them stiffly for the meal and wanted to turn around to leave when Coach Hernandez softly said, “Neil.”

A heavy hand landed on Neil’s shoulder, and it took Neil every ounce of self control to not flinch away from it. He looked up into Coach Hernandez’s face and met his soft look blankly.

“We’ll be there.” He cleared his throat at Neil’s confused frown and elaborated, “At the Reaping. We’ll be watching. Don’t worry, kid. It won’t be you.”

He squeezed Neil’s shoulder before he let go, and Rena ruffled through his unruly hair with a small smile. “If you go hunting again bring us a rabbit, will you? And let us invite you to lunch more often, you are such a skinny little thing.”

She was hardly taller than him but Neil still nodded and swallowed again around the anxious lump in his throat.

“I- Thank you. I’ll try to get you a rabbit next time.” He held up a hand in an awkward farewell gesture and jumped down the stairs from the porch.

Without looking back he took off to run all the way back to the small, shabby shack he lived in while the late morning sun already beat down on him mercilessly.

 

With rising and sinking anxiety, Neil went through the routine of washing, more thoroughly than usual because the Capitol liked to take offense in everything if it meant beating down the District’s citizens.

He watched as the water turned murky in the wooden tub he was sitting in, knees to his chest and hair dripping. He had prepared his best clothes to wear later, a gray short-sleeved shirt and dark pants, even though best only meant clean and whole in his case. He had freed the brown leather boots from the worst dirt earlier, but they still looked the worse for wear.

After a few more moments in which he allowed himself to play with the idea of running away and living in the woods, Neil got up and carelessly dried himself off while avoiding looking at his own torso that had more scar tissue than smooth, unharmed skin.

Most injuries had occurred before he had even turned ten during his father’s gentle care and that of his henchmen. Not that living on the run with his mother had helped in any way; the old bullet wound on his shoulder still ached from time to time and reminded him of another close call and the borrowed time he lived on.  

With a quiet sigh Neil longed for a cigarette. But cigarettes were a luxury few could afford, and he wouldn’t start throwing money out of the window for sentimental memories of his mother smoking or the last moments he had spent with her body on a lonely beach. It was time to go.

On his way to the Hall of Justice, the center of the town in District 12 and the place to gather for the annual Reaping, he passed many more families with their children. For some of them this would be their first year, their name only once among thousands of other names. Neil had heard that some people had thrown their names in forty-eight times now, which meant more food for every additional name.

Compared to them his chances were not too bad, or so he thought.

When Neil arrived at the square, the sun had reached its peak; no shadowy corner was left, and the young people herded towards the middle of the square looked like cattle that was to be counted and then led to the butcher’s slaughterhouse.

In Neil’s case that might be actually true in its literal sense, his father’s nickname as The Butcher made him well-known in certain circles.

Camera crews surrounded the square, filming the people silently filling in and signing up. The Reaping was a good opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well.

Thirteen to nineteen year-olds were herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front while the younger ones stood towards the back.

Neil found himself with people he had never seen before, and with every passing minute the space got tighter, more claustrophobic and Neil started to sweat. His eyes darted around for escape routes and found none as the District’s whole population was squeezed into the big, but not big enough, square; every exit closed off by huddled bodies.

He needed to calm down. He wouldn’t faint in front of the cameras and attract the whole of Panem’s attention and make his father find him without him even taking part in the games.

His eyes fell on a short figure two rows ahead of him. Neil was surrounded by the pale colors of District’s 12 idea of Sunday best: grays, whites and faded blues. 

In front of him, however, stood a short figure, clad entirely in black. Black t-shirt, black pants and even black armbands, it must be unbearably hot under the harsh sunlight, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. Not that Neil could see his face, but he radiated a kind of calm or maybe even something closer to apathy, unaffected by the nervous energy around him, that made Neil feel calmer himself.

Neil started to take the boy’s back in, watched as he stood there unmoved not even twitching while he looked at the temporary stage that was set up before the Justice building. It held four chairs, a podium and a large glass ball, containing the names of every District 12 candidate on paper slips in neatly written letters.

The boy didn’t even reach the girl’s shoulder next to him. Neil knew he was not tall himself, quite the contrary actually since he had inherited his father’s looks from the color of his natural hair and eyes to the curve of his eyebrows but unfortunately his mother’s small stature. With 5’3 even most girls could spit on his head.

But the black clothed boy in front of him looked even tinier than Neil. Absurdly this made Neil almost smile as he regarded the boy’s pale blond hair that looked almost white in the sunlight. He had to be older than Neil to be standing in front of him, so it was a nice rarity to know that other people had been betrayed by their genes as well.

His line of thought was interrupted when two of the four chairs on stage were filled by the District’s mayor and Allison Reynolds, District 12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her blood red dress made out of thousands of roses and golden hair braided into a complicated looking hairstyle.

They exchanged a few murmured words as two more people entered the stage. They sat down just as the town clock struck two, and the mayor stepped up to the podium and started to read.

As far as Neil could recall, it was the same story every year in every District. When he had still lived in the Capitol in his father’s house, he had watched the Reaping from time to time on television.

His father hadn’t much cared about the games or anything involving them, so Neil had only caught bits and pieces when he was out shopping with his mother and the games were broadcasted on the giant screens all over the city. He also knew the story from school and almost every patriotic Capitol citizen that liked to recite it on every possible occasion.

The history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. Disasters that had occurred, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that had swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance had remained.

The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then The Dark Days had followed, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve had been defeated, the thirteenth obliterated.

The Treaty of Treason had given the new laws to guarantee peace and, as a yearly reminder the Dark Days must never be repeated, it introduced the Hunger Games.

The rules of the Hunger Games were simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts had to provide two young people, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes were to fight in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland over a period of several weeks to the death.

The last tribute standing won.

To make things go from bad to worse, the Capitol required the districts to treat the games as a festivity, a sporting event for the districts to celebrate while their children killed each other for the slim chance of a life of ease back home as a winner. The winner’s district would be showered with prizes, mostly consisting of food and gifts like oil and delicacies like sugar, while rest of the outer districts battled starvation.

The mayor completed his speech with the words, “It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks.”

Then he proceeded to read the list of past District 12 victors. In thirty-four years, there had been exactly two.

“David Wymack,” the mayor read, and a big, muscular man stood up from his chair and gave the crowd a curt nod. His bare arms with the infamous flame tattoos were crossed over his broad chest. He looked like he enjoyed this whole charade as much as any of them. It probably took its toll to watch children die under your care year after year.

The mayor waited for David Wymack to sit back down before he continued with “Renee Walker”, and the young woman next to Wymack stood up.

She smiled gently as she waved to the people in her district. Her shoulder long hair had been bleached and only the last two inches looked like they had been dipped into a rainbow.

Neil remembered her, if only dimly. She had won the Hunger Games ten years ago, the first and only games Neil had actually watched. He had been eight and Renee must have been thirteen or fourteen; Neil remembered it because she had been the youngest victor since the start of the games.

The girl back then had worn her hair in a dark braid, eyes wild and smile feral as she had taken out one tribute after another. She had been nothing like the young woman standing now on this stage with her pastel hair and buttoned up blouse.

The mayor nodded and next introduced Allison Reynolds who strode in her six inch heels to the podium and gave the crowd the signature, “Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor,” while she actually looked like she couldn’t care less. It was no surprise, no escort of the Capitol was that fond of District 12, and most of them ached to get bumped up to a better district where they had more than two victors and actual chances of success.

Her posh Capitol accent was so out of place, it reminded Neil of his mother who had beaten that accent out of him first night on the run. Adaption and inconspicuousness were the first two rules he had learned in those years with his mother. Many more had followed.

It was time for the drawing, and Allison stepped around the podium to the giant glass ball. She reached in, dug her hand deep into the ball and pulled out a slip of paper.

It was dead silent across the place as the crowd drew in a collective breath, Neil felt nauseous and found himself against all reasoning desperately hoping that it would not be him. Hope was nothing for him, it never had done him any good, but he still couldn’t help it.

Allison crossed back to the podium, smoothed the slip of paper and read out the name in a clear voice:

“Aaron Minyard.”

 

The relief almost knocked the breath out of Neil’s lungs. A quick glance around and the girls and boys around him had the same look on their faces even though it wasn’t quite over yet. But now that the first name was out and it was none of them, they couldn’t help but actively hope they would be spared this year.

Movement in front of him caught Neil’s eye where people shifted to make room for the proclaimed tribute. Neil saw black in a sea of pale colors and then he could see a boy in the usual District 12 clothes, same height and same blond hair as the boy in black standing there, frozen with his back to Neil.

From the corner of his eye Neil saw Peacekeepers making their way down between the roped areas to reach the frozen boy. He was to be escorted on stage where he would wait for the other tribute to be announced. The Peacekeepers had almost reached him when the boy finally stirred, he turned towards the Peacekeepers mechanically, legs not really moving but face set in a stony mask. He took a small step forwards when suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

Blinking, Neil watched as the black clad boy pushed the other one back and walked in his stead towards the Peacekeepers. He said something to them and the Peacekeeper in front only shrugged before he held up his hand, for the people on the stage to see.

“Looks like we got ourselves a volunteer here. How exciting,” Allison remarked and the wolfish grin that tugged at the corners of her lips revealed that she might actually mean those words.

A volunteer in District 12 was apparently not standard like in other districts where participating in the Hunger Games counted as an honor.

Neil watched as the boy mounted the steps to the stage and stopped next to Allison who had more than a few inches on him, especially in those heels. Nevertheless Neil had the feeling the boy could throw Allison over his shoulder and walk away with her as if she weighed nothing.

“Well, bravo!” Allison said dryly, “Isn’t that the spirit of the games?” Now she smiled brightly, too much teeth and not enough honesty as she took in her volunteering tribute. And yet she seemed to be pleased that in her district finally some action happened. “What is your name?”

The boy turned towards the crowd his face unmoved,  _ no,  _ Neil thought, absolutely impassive. It looked like as if he couldn’t care less that he had just volunteered to get killed in an arena with twenty-three other kids. He might as well be counting blades of grass behind the fence for all he cared apparently.

“Andrew Minyard,” he told the cameras and his district before crossing his arms over his chest and simply staring into nothingness.

Allison actually looked delighted by the development things had taken, and she tapped eagerly with her long painted fingernails on the podium. “A twin for a twin! How courageous of you to take your brother’s place.”

Belatedly Neil realized she was right. They were twins. He had only seen Aaron’s back and profile, but now with Andrew’s face on the big screen, broadcasted from all angles by dozens of cameras, it was unmistakable that they were identical.

Apparently Andrew had opted out of the conversation and the unfolding events the moment he had stepped onto the stage because he completely ignored Allison’s attempts at small talk and her questions for his reasons to step in for Aaron, so the escort let out a small, frustrated huff after a few more moments of her repeatedly running against a wall.

She turned her attention back to the crowd, smile a little more forced now as she put her hand for a second time in the bowl.

“A truly exciting development here in District 12. Let’s see who will be the other brave tribute traveling to the Capitol this year.” She simply grabbed the first slip she encountered and walked back to the podium.

Neil didn’t even have time to wish for his own safety when she read the name.

“Neil Josten.”

The taste of hope being crushed to dust should be a familiar one to Neil by now. It had been fed to him so many times he barely registered the bitterness anymore. This time though he couldn’t help but actually feel betrayed.

He barely noticed the other kids around him making space so he could walk up to the stage and join Andrew on his way to the butcher. No one would volunteer for him, he was all alone in this world and the only person who ever had put any effort into his well being was buried under a thick layer of sand. A few burnt bones and nothing but broken promises left for him.

Neil had no idea how he ended up between Andrew Minyard and Allison Reynolds on the stage, in front of thousands of people and soon all of Panem. His face was in plain view for everyone and everything that had eyes to see. He blinked slowly.

“Shake your hands, tributes,” Allison instructed them and Neil turned towards Andrew, again surprised he had to look down instead of up. He gazed into dull hazel eyes and stretched out his hand half expecting to be ignored.

The sudden pain shooting through his hand pulled Neil out of his momentarily stupor, and he realized Andrew was almost crushing his hand with his handshake. Neil schooled his face into some faked calmness and tried to return the favor with equal force. It was apparent that Andrew was stronger than him.

“I don’t like you, little rabbit.” Andrew stated in a bored voice and let go of Neil’s hand that was throbbing violently after the assault.

Baffled, Neil couldn’t come up with a good retort before he and Andrew had to turn back to face the crowd as the anthem of Panem started to play.

An idle thought crossed Neil’s mind as he watched the people in front of him and his eyes somehow found Coach Hernandez and Rena looking at him, tight lipped and hands white knuckled where they were balled into fists. He probably had to kill Andrew if he wanted to live. And by the look of it, Andrew had at least one more reason than Neil to survive this year’s games. Aaron’s face looked sullen between all the other kids that could hardly hide their relief at the misfortune of two other people this year. He watched Andrew with dark eyes but from what Neil could tell, Andrew had written his brother off already. He didn’t even spare him a glance when they were both ushered inside the Hall of Justice and away from cameras and prying eyes.

 

Once inside, they were conducted to a room and left alone. It looked like the richest place in District 12, with thick, deep carpets and a velvet couch and chairs. It reminded Neil of his childhood home in the Capitol, where the carpets swallowed every step and it was easy for his father or Lola to sneak up on him. Lola had loved to surprise little Neil.

Neil sat down on the couch and started to chew on his lower lip as he held Andrew’s bored gaze from across the room where he was leaning against the wall. Neither of them spoke and Andrew’s unwavering eyes and his words from before threw Neil slightly off. He didn’t know Andrew, had never met him before but his words indicated that he was somewhat aware of who Neil was. Or it had only taken him one second to decide that he didn’t like Neil.

The big grandfather clock ticked loudly into their silence and after five minutes the door finally opened to let in family and loved ones to say goodbye. Neil had neither so it had to be for Andrew, and right on cue Aaron shuffled inside, followed by a tall, dark haired and dark skinned man that could barely hold his tears back. He shoved Aaron out of his way and threw his hands up in an exasperated gesture.

“Andrew I can’t believe you did that! But also I absolutely can!” He stopped just out of reach in front of Andrew and shook his head repeatedly.

Neil knew the man. Nicholas Hemmick worked in the bakery in the Merchant’s section where Neil would sometimes trade fresh meat for bread with the bakery’s boss. Even though hunting in the woods was illegal, no one seemed to care that Neil would slip through a hole in the fence occasionally and come back with freshly killed rabbits and birds. Meat was even for the Peacekeepers are rarity, so no one complained about the grubby Seam kid that somehow managed to catch little animals.

Nicholas insisted on being called Nicky and was a real chatterbox who was rarely bothered by Neil’s monosyllabic answers. Now that Neil saw the people Nicky associated with he wasn’t overly surprised anymore.

Aaron lingered close to the door but watched his brother attentively while Andrew simply stared out of the window, mentally no longer in this room. However, his eyes snapped back to the door when two more people entered, two women Neil knew by sight but not by name. He was pretty sure they owned the apothecary nearby the school.

“Andrew,” the shorter woman with pale brown hair and glasses spoke up as she approached Andrew smilingly. She stopped at arm’s length from him and tilted her head slightly. “Do you want me to accompany you to the Capitol?”

It was an accommodating offer the Capitol used to show the people how generously they treated their tributes. Every tribute was allowed to take a person of their choice along. To spend their last weeks with someone they loved while they were trained to kill and to be killed in a perverted game for the entertainment of a few.

Andrew eyed the woman for a few seconds before he sighed and shook his head. “Always doing the right thing, Bee,” he said in a bored tone, “but I have to refuse though. You won’t be useful for me there.” He ignored Nicky’s offended gasp and let his eyes rest for a split second on his brother. “You’ll come.” He didn’t wait for some sort of affirmation before staring back out of the window.

The taller woman with the straight black hair approached Bee and asked her something which led to Bee pulling something out of her bag. “Abby and I thought you might like this. So you won’t get bored during the train ride.” She only smiled at the look Andrew gave her for that, but he accepted the book she showed him though. His eyes flew over the description on the back before he looked up and his eyes set on Neil who had hoped he could become one with the room’s interior furnishing.

Suddenly everyone was looking at him and his skin started to crawl with the unwanted attention. Nicky was the first to break the silence as he crossed the room with his arms spread and a loud, “Oh Neil!”

For a horrifying moment Neil thought he would be embraced but Nicky stopped right in front of him and looked at him so pityingly, the anxiety in Neil’s stomach turned into something ugly, akin to his father’s anger.

“It’s a shame that they always choose the pretty ones. Who is now left in this godforsaken district? What am I supposed to do now? Neil, you have no idea how often you have sweetened my day with your unfriendly little visits.”

Somewhere from the door came a loud groan and Abby who stood behind Nicky chided him with a smack on the back of his head. “Nicholas Esteban Hemmick, I hope you did not just say that to a tribute right in front of me!”

With a whine Nicky rubbed his head as he turned to Abby. “What? Look at him, he’s a runner! That does wonders for the human—in this case male body. Don’t judge me while you and Wy-“ Another smack interrupted him for good now and he actually looked like a scolded schoolboy, even though Abby barely reached his chin.

“He looks more like a rabbit to me,” Andrew interjected unexpectedly and gave Neil a bored look that finally managed to make Neil’s anger explode. He was good at that, initiating fights through angry outbursts but never finishing any because he was too busy running and not getting killed as a result. His father really blessed him with all kinds of gifts.

Neil pushed himself past Nicky and Abby and walked up to Andrew until there was barely an inch of space left between their bodies before he snarled, “What is your fucking problem with me? I don’t even know you!” It was a little bit satisfying to see how Andrew had to bend his head to maintain eye contact with Neil.

“I don’t like liars  _ Neil _ ,” Andrew answered him simply before he pushed him off of him. He had said it so softly that the others probably hadn’t caught up on it, but that didn’t make it any better for Neil.

He suddenly felt exposed under Andrew’s gaze, and his mind started to reel. He had never exchanged a single word with Andrew Minyard before this very day, but somehow the boy had already seen right through Neil, undone eight years of work with one look. It didn’t matter that Andrew had no idea  _ what _ Neil was hiding, it was enough that he knew there was  _ something _ . Something meant he could start digging, and sooner or later he would find something.

If Neil survived the games against all odds and his father didn’t catch up with him, he might have a chance to live in District 12 where people did not care for him enough to ask unpleasant questions but still invited him for breakfast and lunch. He could have this tiny bit of normality, but only if he killed Andrew first.

They looked at each other before Andrew shoved Neil out of his way saying, “You bore me, rabbit.”

“At least they won’t have any problems killing each other,” Aaron remarked with a shrug and returned Neil’s angry look with an unimpressed one.

“ _ Ugh _ , great first impression guys,” Nicky complained and put a hand on Neil’s shoulder that made Neil almost turn around and break Nicky’s wrist.

He shook it off by turning around and stepping away from him which Nicky didn’t seem to mind though. “So Neil, who’s gonna be your plus one? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Sister? Brother? Never saw you with anyone, granted I only see you like once a week for a few minutes.” He grinned and Neil felt himself reminded of Coach Hernandez in the way Nicky showed his perfect teeth. The bread they had eaten this morning had probably been from Nicky.

“No one,” he said eventually and was ready to bolt when he saw the looks Abby and Nicky gave him for that. Bee only looked thoughtful for a moment before she was back to smiling.

“How surprising, a loner. Makes running easier doesn’t it Neil?”

“Andrew,” Bee started, still smiling but with a censuring undertone.

Their time was up though, the door slammed open and Allison Reynolds entered with her flock of Peacekeepers. She looked around and finally settled for Andrew who looked right through her.

“Are you taking someone with you?” She waited for an answer in vain from him and after a few moments Aaron stepped forth and told her he would go with his brother. Allison was unmistakably ecstatic about the notion, the only thing better than twins traveling together would have been twins killing each other. She had to settle for the second best then.

She looked expectantly at Neil next who was about to shake his head when he caught Nicky watching the twins with a strained smile and a closed off look in his eyes, as if he was already trying to isolate himself from the pain. Neil had no idea in what relation Nicky stood to the twins, but he was sure that Nicky deeply cared for them. And it was not unlikely that this could be the last time he would see Andrew ever again.

He would kill Andrew or at least die trying to, but he could give Nicky a few extra weeks with the infuriating garden gnome and his gloomy looking brother.

Neil exhaled and told her with a nod towards Nicky, “He’s coming with us.”

Surprisingly, Nicky did not start yelling or shouting, instead he looked at Neil with his lips formed to a silent O and eyes as big as saucers. Bee nodded and smiled at Neil approvingly which unnerved Neil even more; he didn’t like those sharp brown eyes with laughter lines around the corners. She didn’t look like much, but Neil was sure she knew more than she let on. People that were hard to read he usually tried to avoid, but now he would spend the next few weeks in close vicinity to such a person and eventually had to kill him.

Andrew watched Neil with a minimal frown between his brows, and Neil caught himself thinking that the twins looked actually nothing alike. There was nothing identical in their facial expressions or the way they walked as they all followed Allison outside the building to a parked car.

There were no touches exchanged as they said their goodbyes, except for Nicky who hugged the two women and told them to take care of themselves. Abby looked like she wanted to say something to Andrew, but with a brief look to Neil she simply shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.

Neil was sure they all believed Andrew could win the games and return to them, even though they didn’t say such a thing, not if Neil could hear them. They didn’t know Neil, probably didn’t care enough for him to wish for his safe return if it meant Andrew’s death. But they still liked him well enough to not let him go with a bad feeling. Jokes on them, the closer he came to the Capitol the bigger the bad feeling in his chest became.

They all squeezed inside the car, Allison driving with Andrew on the passenger seat and Nicky between Aaron and Neil in the back. It was a short ride to the train station, and soon they were swarmed by reporters and their insectlike cameras trained directly on their faces.

Neil wiped his face clean of emotions and tried to make himself as small as possible. Unfortunately Nicky walked behind him or else Neil could use him as shield from the cameras, but as it was he had only Andrew directly in front of him. Neil watched his broad shoulders and wondered how strong he really was. He remembered the crushing handshake and the flexing muscles when he had crossed his arms. Neil probably had to work with speed to outsmart that obstacle.

Nicky and Aaron went inside the train first while Andrew and Neil had to stand for a few minutes in the doorway of the train while the cameras gobbled up their images, then they were allowed inside and the doors closed mercifully.


	2. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few scenes from the books because how could I rewrite existing perfection?  
> I tried a few times to capture Nora's portrayal, especially in the Wymack scene at the end of the chapter but I simply couldn't live up to the original so I took it from the book.

The moment the doors were closed the train began to move at once. The speed initially took Neil’s breath away. He had been on a few trains before but never on a passenger train as travel between the districts was forbidden except for officially sanctioned duties, such as transporting goods. Neil and his mother had often used those trains as stowaways. They had hopped on it in one district and left it in the next. But this was no ordinary cargo train. It was one of the high-speed Capitol models that averaged 250 miles per hour. Their journey to the Capitol would probably take less than a day. The thought made Neil twitch nervously; he had somehow assumed he had more time left. He didn’t know for what, simply that he could prolong the inevitable.

The tribute train was even fancier than the room in the Justice building, all sleek surfaces and shiny furnishing that made Neil want to gag.

Everyone had their own chambers consisting of a bedroom, a dressing area and a private bathroom with hot and cold running water. It had been ages since Neil had taken a hot shower; the only times had been in the richer districts. The drawers were filled with fine clothes, and Allison told Neil with an expressive look to change into anything he wanted to from the closet. She quickly showed them both around and then made sure they’d be ready for supper in an hour.

Neil felt relieved when he could finally retreat into his chambers and noted satisfied that the door was lockable from the inside. This would probably be the last chance for any sort of privacy before his unavoidable death.

While taking a shower, Neil found his earlier optimism shrivel by every mile the train brought him closer to the Capitol. It had been naïve of him to believe Andrew would be his biggest problem. He had never been a fighter; when his father’s people had caught up to them, his mother had always told him to run while she stood her ground and fought. It wasn’t that Neil could not fight back or had an aversion to killing, he had taken more than one life when it had came down to it, he simply never had to do it while standing on equal grounds.

Some of the kids had trained their whole lives for the Games and knew how to kill someone with a stick and a leaf. Neil had only used the moment of surprise or managed to hit by sheer luck. And besides, should he win the Games against all odds, his father would most definitely recognize him. He had found them time after time after all, no matter how often they had managed to slip past him. That was until their last encounter in District 8 where Neil and his mother had hid until last. Neil hadn’t even realized his father had gotten his mother bad until they had managed to find a way out of the district and to the seaside where his mother had collapsed before taking her last breath, desperately clinging to every second as if she was still trying to find a way out.

Before the memories could get the better of him, Neil cut the water off and left the shower for the dressing room. The clothing assortment threatened to overwhelm him; he had worn the same four outfits with more or less the same color scheme for two years now, plain and unremarkable. The Capitol, however, loved their bright and outlandish colors, so Neil had to dig deep inside the closet to find a dark green shirt and black trousers. Neil knew the fabric of these clothes was more expensive than a house in District 12.

He checked the time on the alarm clock on his bedside table and noted that he still had ten minutes left before he should find his way to the dining car. He didn’t want to see the rest of their group again, and he wasn’t interested in meeting Wymack and Renee who would be responsible for mentoring Andrew and him for the Games, whatever that involved.

He also wasn’t interested in seeing Andrew ever again but sadly some things were out of the question.

He watched the minutes go by and got up with a sigh when he heard a knock, and Allison was outside to collect him for supper. She had changed her clothes as well. She wore a loose pink dress, and to Neil’s surprise, was also barefoot. She only spared him a short glance that she followed up with a slight shake of her head. “I guess it’s better than your grandfather shirt or whatever you District 12 people think is en vogue.”

Neil didn’t even pretend to understand what she was talking about and simply followed her through the narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room with polished paneled walls. There was a big table where all the dishes looked highly breakable. Neil and Allison were the last to enter, everyone else was already seated and looked up upon their entrance.

With a drop of his stomach Neil observed that the only free seats were either next to Renee at the end of the table or between Andrew and Wymack. He would have preferred Renee, but Allison claimed that seat for herself and nudged Renee over to make a little more room for her.

Wary, Neil made his way over to the seat and tried to hide any discomfort with practiced ease.

“I don’t think Neil likes you very much, Coach.” Andrew stated with fake concern on his otherwise expressionless face. Neil gave him a dirty look for calling him out like that in front of everyone, but to his surprise Wymack himself was the one who shut Andrew up with a grumpy, “Shut your hole, Minyard.” He then proceeded to face Neil and gave him a thin smile that Neil could hardly reciprocate.

It wasn’t Wymack’s fault, he seemed nice enough from all Neil had heard, he simply had the right age and height to make Neil cautious. Wymack seemed to catch on, though, and actually moved a little bit out of Neil’s space.

“Oh man, I missed this!” Nicky moaned from across the table as he stretched his arms over his head and then smoothed the front of his glittery blue shirt down. Apparently he had taken full advantage of the dresser in his room. “No offense but District 12 is a shithole and the clothes are disastrous.”

“It’s your own fault for leaving 4,” Aaron muttered next to him while crossing his arms. That caught Neil’s attention, and he looked up to Nicky who bumped his shoulder into Aaron’s. Allison looked up as well but everyone else appeared unbothered by this revealing.

“You are not from 12?” Neil couldn’t help but ask. It wasn’t unheard of that residents from richer districts could move to poorer ones, but it was very much unadvised. No one in their right mind would leave a district like 4 to live in 12 except maybe if their murderous father was on their heels.

Sheepishly, Nicky scratched the back of his neck at Neil’s question. “No, I’m not. I moved to 12 a few years ago, someone had to look after these two idiots.” He motioned to Andrew and Aaron.

“No one asked you to,” Andrew said in his default bored voice while playing around with the sharp knife next to his plate. Nicky did not look at him as he said quietly, “I know.”

He caught Neil’s confused look though, so he elaborated, “They are my family.”

Neil still didn’t understand and Nicky pointed between Aaron, Andrew and himself. “We’re cousins.”

“Cousins,” Neil echoed and took the picture of Aaron and Nicky sitting next to each other in. Everything about Aaron, and therefore about Andrew, too, was pale. Their skin and their hair, even their eyebrows. Only their eyes had a rich hazel color. Nicky, on the contrary, was all dark skin, curly dark brown hair and eyes so brown they almost looked black. Then there was the notable height difference as well, and no one could blame Neil for not seeing any family resemblance.

Nicky seemed to follow Neil’s line of thought because he suddenly started to laugh and pointed between Aaron and himself. “I know, not much to tell that we are actually related, huh?”

Neil only shook his head. Their conversation was interrupted at last when the first course arrived. A thick carrot soup was brought in by Capitol people that were somehow everywhere on the train but never too intrusive. They were cooking for them. Waiting on them. Guarding them. Simply taking care of everything.

For a few minutes they ate in silence which made Neil gradually relax. He hadn’t eaten something so good since he had been a child, and back then he had never enjoyed it really, too afraid to do something wrong and incur his father’s wrath thereby. In hindsight he could have been as silent and immobile as a puppet and his father would still have found a reason to hurt him.

Of course the silence couldn’t last forever, and it was a simple matter of time before Andrew would start his prodding again.

“So I get you don’t have any cousins, Neil?” An innocent enough question, but with the way Andrew looked at him, Neil felt his paranoia stirring. He had thought about a story before he had made his first appearance in District 12, along with his name and new personality traits. Neil Josten was a quiet boy who didn’t like to make any trouble. Good job he had done there.

He narrowed his eyes slightly as he answered, “No, no cousins.”

Neil was so busy watching Andrew, who simply shrugged and turned back to his soup, that he belatedly realized he had the whole table’s attention. Nicky was the first to jump on the opportunity as he was overly nosy and loved hearing about people’s stories, “So any other family? Rena once told me you live alone, is that true?”

Of course Rena and Nicky would love to chat with each other. Neil didn’t like that they were talking about him at all. He was supposed to be unremarkable, nothing people would think, let alone talk about. Better to get this over with and tell these people his made-up biography.

He put his spoon down and pushed the half empty bowl away from him. “My parents live in District 8. I did something stupid and was sent to 12 as punishment. That’s it.” Defensively he crossed his arms and looked Nicky straight in the face, daring him to say anything about it. It was Allison though who spoke up, “What? You are supposed to be from District 8? As in textile production District 8?” Neil’s eyes darted to her and for a horrifying second he thought she had somehow detected his lie and would expose him as the son of a high ranking Capitol official. But she only laughed and pointed a manicured finger at him. “You dress worse than the monster trio over there. They probably threw you out because your clothing was even under District 11 standards.”

Somehow that annoyed Neil. He had actually lived in 8. He had seen the fine clothing that was made for the Capitol and the Peacekeeper uniforms. It might be true that the district’s residents wore more colorful and better clothes than the outer districts, but only if they could pay for it, which applied to maybe five percent of the people living there. Allison’s ignorance was infuriating, and Neil told her as much with furrowed eyebrows. “Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t maintain an adequate wardrobe while I was busy climbing into industrial tanks to clean them, so the fine linen you are wearing could be dyed accordingly. Maybe the toxic fumes clouded my mind for what is fashionable to wear should I ever encounter a Capitol highness.”

The others gaped at him for a second before Renee let out a snicker that soon blew up into full grown laughter. A second later Nicky joined in and even Wymack huffed out something that sounded like amusement. Renee slightly tapped Allison’s temple and told her conspiratorially, “He might have a point, you know. You just sounded really snobbish.” Allison only threw her long blonde hair over a shoulder and gave Neil a standoffish look. “Not my problem if the kid is so sensitive.”

The topic was dropped, though, and their next course arrived, green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, which kept them from any more conversation.

Neil watched as Andrew cut his meal in small, bite sized pieces before eating them. Renee gave him sweet smiles every time their eyes met over the table, and Neil had no idea what to do with that. She was a weird woman. She could kill a man with her bare hands and yet she sat there, talking in a gentle voice with Allison next to her and Wymack in front of her. Neil also hadn’t missed the delicate silver cross around her neck. A symbol from the old days, before Panem. Christianity and other religions were almost extinct now. There was no place for spirituality in a world where the only gods people believed in were consumption and abundance. Neil knew of a few people in the poorer districts that still practiced some of the old holy rituals, though, even without their books. His mother had collected books passionately when they had still lived with his father. Neil had even seen the Bible and the Koran in her library once. He hadn’t been allowed to touch them for they were hundreds of years old, but they had been an impressive sight to behold.

He couldn’t figure Renee out, so he decided to keep his distance and avoided any further eye contact.

When the dessert arrived Neil was so full he didn’t even touch the chocolate cake. He wasn’t too fond of sweets anyway so he didn’t mourn the loss. He couldn’t resist the temptation of the fresh fruits though and snagged a small bowl of strawberries for himself. The fresh taste of them made him almost moan, but he contained himself to not appear weird in front of the others and only closed his eyes in silent pleasure. When he opened them again the plate with his cake was gone and Wymack was giving Andrew an earful behind Neil’s back. A look to the side and Neil saw him eating his cake while he stared Wymack dead in the eye. The man cursed and pointed his fork in a silent warning at Andrew before turning back to his own dessert.

Neil watched Andrew a moment longer until the other boy had had enough and asked him with a deadpanned voice, “What.”

“Nothing,” Neil replied but didn’t turn away.

“Then stop staring and wipe your mouth, you look like a stupid toddler.”

The corner of Andrew’s mouth was also smeared with chocolate which Neil pointed out, irritated, after he rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth and his skin got sticky from strawberry juice. Andrew ignored him, and so their dinner party finally ended.

Everyone got up and went to another compartment to watch the recap of the Reapings across Panem. Wymack had to bribe Andrew with an expensive looking bottle of whiskey or the other boy would have simply vanished into his chambers, no interest for the other tributes whatsoever.

Not for the first time during the evening Neil suspected they somehow knew each other already. Renee and Wymack lived in the Victor’s Village back in District 12, while the cousins apparently were in the Merchant’s section. It was not unlikely that they had met while running errands, maybe chatting with Nicky in the bakery. But there was a kind of familiarity between the cousins and the two victors that indicated a longer and deeper relationship.

One by one, they watched the other Reapings, the names called, the volunteers stepping forward, or more often, not. Neil examined the faces of the kids who would be his competition. A few stood out in his mind.

A monstrous boy who lunged forward to volunteer from District 2 and his sour looking district partner, a tank of a girl, that followed his example. A boy and a girl from District 10 that wore equal stony masks to hide their obvious fear. And a fifteen-year-old girl from District 11 who everyone mistook for thirteen or even younger which should be impossible. She was a small thing, with dark brown skin and big brown eyes that had a vacant look in them.

Last of all, they showed District 12 and Andrew volunteering for his brother. The commentators joked about how ironic it would have been if Aaron had been drawn again. The Capitol loved siblings in the Games and twins would have been a novelty.

They still found satisfaction in Neil and Andrew as tributes, though, as they commented on their lack of height and compared them to the tributes from 2. “Minyard could lend Josten a hand and they’d be able to reach the neck of Leverett together,” one commentator laughed and Neil fantasized about wrapping his hands around the man’s throat to shut him up.

The program ended after the anthem played and Wymack stood up.

“You’ve seen the other tributes now. Forget them. They only become important the second you step into the arena and even then they are of secondary importance.” He gave Neil and Andrew a stern look which both responded to with equally blank ones. Wymack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you know what the most important part is to win the Games?”

“To kill as many as possible?” Nicky offered after a beat of silence and only shrugged nonchalantly at Aaron’s look.

“It can be helpful but no.” Crossing his arms Wymack waited another moment for an answer before he gave up. “Sponsors. Gifts from sponsors. Most of you will die of natural course or untreated injuries. Make yourselves likable. Present yourself as people that rich sponsors want to save, do you understand?” 

After a moment of silence, Aaron snorted loudly before he could think any better of it. Nicky punched him in the shoulder for it but gave Wymack an unbelieving look as well. “You do know that you are talking about  _ Andrew _ here right? And Neil ‘the Capitol exploits my childhood home District 8’ Josten? The only thing likable about them is Neil’s face and the small percentage of genes Andrew shares with me.”

Begrudgingly, Neil had to agree with Nicky. Andrew’s show of stubbornness towards Allison at the Reaping was only one example. Neil found Andrew to be absolutely dislikable, and as a sponsor he would gladly watch him die. The same was regrettably also the case for him. He was rough and often too blunt for most people, they called him impolite and mouthy. His mother had hit him more than once for his attitude. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to play his role, his father’s temper ran through his veins like viscous poison.

With a sigh Wymack closed his eyes. “I can’t believe I got two tributes that could probably hold their ground in the arena, but will die from an infected paper cut because no one wants to sponsor a fucking patch or ointment.”

The actual message of Wymack’s words flew right over Neil’s head as he was too stunned by the man’s belief he could fight in the arena and even survive. A loud clap however brought him back down to earth as Allison began marching up and down in front of him and Andrew like an officer in the army. “Then we work with what we got.” She stopped in front of Andrew who was staring at the black TV screen as if there was still something to watch. Allison, already used to it, turned towards Renee. “We will use the volunteering for his brother. Make a pathetic sob story out of it and they will eat out of his hand, they love to cry about tragedies as long as they don’t have to think too long about it.”

Renee looked a little indecisive and turned to Andrew who actually returned her look but said nothing. Renee only smiled and then nodded. “Fine, I’ll work something out with Andrew.”

Allison appeared for a moment to be taken aback, showing what Neil felt. So there was apparent history between the two of them. Enough for Andrew to actually acknowledge her at least. Allison left it at an arched eyebrow, though, and turned to Neil. She eyed him up and down for a second before seizing his chin. The touch made Neil jolt and he swatted her hand away with a menacing scowl. She seemed unfazed by his display of aggression and only nodded thoughtfully as she examined him like a piece of furniture she was undecided about. “After the stylists are done with him they will love him. Rude idiots may be hated, but rude idiots that happen to be pretty are  _ loved _ . Just look at Day, he is the biggest idiot I’ve ever met but his face opens every door. They’ll want to eat Neil up when we are done with him.”

It took Neil a moment to register the name. Day. Kevin Day. 

Kevin Day would be there. Kevin Day who had won the games two years ago and was now most likely there to mentor the tributes of his district.

Kevin Day who knew Neil. Kevin Day who had watched together with Neil and Riko Moriyama as his father had cut a living man apart, limb by limb.

Neil felt like throwing up. He stood abruptly up, eyes unfocused and mouth dry as if he had just swallowed sand. “I think I need to throw up,” he said, not even bothering with a lie for a change. He ignored Nicky’s worrying look and Renee’s offer to help him and simply left the room.

If Kevin recognized him everything would be over. He would surely tell Riko and Riko would tell his uncle and then– Neil stopped in the middle of the dimly lit corridor. Riko would be there too. With Riko and Kevin together there was no chance in hell they wouldn’t realize who he was.

He tried to remember how he had looked at ten and if it was possible for them to not see the kid from back then in him now. Would he recognize Riko or Kevin if he hadn’t watched them growing up on television, followed by a camera since they’d been able to walk? He was not sure, but the black 1 and 2 on their faces would have probably been a big indicator.

Suddenly he felt something move behind him, and Neil whirled around, missing a blade directed at him by a hair’s breadth.

“Careful, Neil.” He heard a familiar voice and the panic and fear that made Neil’s heart quicken turned into anger.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” He snarled at Andrew who stood in front of him, twirling a knife around his finger like a toy. “Depends on who you ask,” he said and suddenly the knife was gone from Neil’s sight. With rising panic he tried to find it on Andrew’s form, but it was simply gone. Unconsciously, Neil retreated to get out of Andrew’s reach. He hated knives so much; they not only reminded him of his father but also made him aware of every cut on his skin. They reminded him of Lola, and they reminded him of lessons with the woman who had enjoyed ending them with a little fight to test his progress.

“Are you looking for this?” Andrew pulled the knife out again and this time Neil saw how he drew it out from under his sleeve. Neil remembered the armbands Andrew had worn at the Reaping and things suddenly made sense. “Do you actually have sheathes built into those or are you doing everyone a favor by slowly attempting suicide?”

“Your little attitude problem is going to get you killed before you even set foot in the arena,” Andrew said slowly and let his knife disappear again. Neil only shrugged; it wasn’t like he hadn’t spent every moment in the last few hours with that thought, except that his mere existence would take him out before any tribute had the chance to, including Andrew. “Takes the work out of your hands, doesn’t it?”

Andrew only hummed in response before he took a step closer, herding Neil into the closed door that lead into the next car. “Your loose ends aren’t adding up, little rabbit.”

“I’m not a math problem.”

“But I’ll still solve you.”

Neil turned his head away without another word and waited for Andrew to take a step back so he could open the door to the next car. He went through it without looking back but Andrew’s words made him pause, though. “You are a conundrum.”

Neil glanced over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“No thank you,” Andrew said as he crossed his arms over his chest, face as expressionless as ever except for a small twitch at the corner of his lips. “I need a new toy to play with.”

“Fuck you,” Neil told him plainly and continued his way only hearing Andrew’s “Oh Neil” before the door closed again and he was alone, or as alone as one could be on a Capitol train with Capitol servants lurking around every corner.

Neil returned to his chamber and slumped with a quiet sigh against the door he had locked behind him. It had been a long day and he somehow had to get up the next morning and continue living. So nothing really had changed except his chance to die had gone up from a comfortable fifty percent to something between ninety and one hundred. Probably the drawers held any number of pajamas, but Neil just stripped off his shirt and trousers and climbed into bed in his underwear. The sheets were made of soft, silky fabric. A thick, fluffy quilt gave immediate warmth.

For a while Neil couldn’t fall asleep no matter how tired his mind felt, his body ached for a run. He wanted to run, preferably as far away as possible from everything. He thought about Andrew and his prying questions. Neil wished he would just leave him alone, mark him down as boring like he found everything else apparently. What had he done that had invoked the other’s distrust?

His thoughts kept him awake for a while before the train finally rocked him into sleep, and he dreamed of his father chasing him through the streets of District 12.

Grey light was leaking through the curtain when Neil woke up. He got up and washed his face in the bathroom before checking his hair and eyes routinely. He blinked, was he hallucinating or were there actual blue speckles in the brown of his eyes? He shook his head and the blue was gone. Maybe he was losing his mind already. He returned to the room and put on the clothes from the day before since they weren’t really dirty, just crumpled from spending the night on the floor. Looking outside the window, Neil found that they couldn’t be far from the Capitol now. The knot in his stomach tightened and he felt cold all over, except his head was pounding and heating up.

He swiftly combed with his fingers through his black curls and decided to leave it at that and make his way to the dining car. Even though he felt like he had swallowed rocks, he wouldn’t leave out a free meal and much less if it was fresh.

As Neil entered, Allison brushed by him with a cup of black coffee, styled from head to toe. Her dress consisted of hundreds of blue, green and yellow feathers while her hair had wisps in the same colors. She already was a tall woman without her shoes but with them she could look Wymack comfortably in the eyes.

Neil looked around and noted Nicky’s absence, everyone else was already seated and in various states of eating their breakfast.

Renee waved him over and pointed at the seat next to her. His other choices consisted of the place between Wymack and Andrew again or next to Aaron. Renee seemed to be his safest option, so he accepted her offer which she responded to with a sweet smile.

The moment he sat down, he was served an enormous platter of food. Eggs, ham, piles of fried potatoes. A tureen of fruit sat in ice to keep it chilled.

“Are you feeling better?” Renee asked quietly as he went for the fruit and coffee. When he only gave her a blank look, she elaborated, “You felt sick in the evening?” Oh right.

“I’m fine,” he told her and started to peel an orange to have an excuse to not look at her.

Nicky joined them after a while, his new outfit even more outstanding and his hair styled quite professionally. “I think I could live like this forever.”

Allison huffed at that and considered Nicky with an aloof look, “This is nothing, honey. I know a few shops you would absolutely go mad in.” Nicky bit in a still warm bread roll and answered with a full mouth, “You know I kind of want to hit you for being so conceited, but I might actually take you on that offer.”

This whole thing was like a vacation for Nicky, and nothing but business for Allison. Each of them would go home after this mess, maybe even as friends while Neil was either cremated as a fallen tribute or chopped into tiny pieces by his father to be disposed of by Lola.

As if Renee had read his thoughts, she piped up, “You might want to do that after the Games. Right now we should support Neil and Andrew, right?” Her smile was gentle but every word hit home and Nicky looked actually guilty while Allison only pressed her lips together.

It was easy to forget their reason for being here, no one liked to be reminded of death when luxuries and delicacies were only one order away.

Wymack, who hadn’t paid any attention to them the whole time, spoke up then, “In a few minutes, we’ll be pulling into the station. You,” he pointedly looked at Neil and Andrew, “will be put in the hands of your stylists. You’re not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don’t resist.” That didn’t sound good. Neil closed his eyes to not look at Renee or Wymack, because he knew he would inevitably cause problems for them. Then again, he had caused problems his whole life so what did he care? He watched Wymack get up and motion Renee to follow him. They left the car and the second the door closed behind them everything went dark.

There were still a few lights inside, but outside it was as if night had fallen again. Neil realized they had to be in the tunnel that ran up through the mountains into the Capitol. The mountains formed a natural barrier between the Capitol and the eastern districts. It was almost impossible to enter from the east except through the tunnels. This geographical advantage was a major factor in the districts losing the war that led to Neil being a tribute today. Since the rebels had had to scale the mountains, they had been easy targets for the Capitol’s air forces.

The train finally began to slow down and suddenly bright light flooded the compartment. Aaron and Nicky couldn’t help it and ran to the window to see what they had only seen on television, the Capitol, the ruling city of Panem.

Neil couldn’t bring himself to look up, he focused on the dry skin of his hands instead. He remembered the glistening buildings in a rainbow of hues that towered into the air, the shiny cars rolling down wide paved streets and the oddly dressed people with bizarre hair and painted faces only too well.

“Not curious at all?” Andrew suddenly asked him, and Neil realized the other boy hadn’t moved to look out the window like his brother and cousin. The two of them were the only ones left at the table, facing each other over their breakfast.

“No,” Neil said and watched Andrew as he stroked absentmindedly over his black armbands, now visible on his bare arms. “What about you?”

Andrew looked back to him, something dark crossing his face that made Neil shiver involuntarily. “No. I know it well enough.”

Before Neil could press on  –  Andrew had been to the Capitol before?  –  Wymack returned and told them be ready. Andrew and Neil had to lead the way out of the train for the cameras to capture their arrival, and for the first time since they had left District 12, Neil was glad to have Andrew’s unconcerned apathy by his side.  


 

At the Remake Centre Andrew and Neil were separated. Renee went with Andrew one way while Wymack went with Neil the other, to meet their stylists. Wymack ushered him inside a room that looked more like a medical examination room, with its sterile white walls and metallic instruments Neil could not even begin to fathom what they were good for.

After a few minutes a grotesque looking man entered the room, his hair an outrageous yellow that made his pale skin look sick, and his face looked lifted in a way that made Neil wonder if he could even frown. Apparently he couldn’t, because the only movement in his face was the up and down of his likewise yellow eyebrows as he inspected Neil.

“Take off your clothes, I am here to clean you up so Roland can try and turn you into something human again.”

This was to be expected and Neil had already made up his mind earlier should this happen. “No.”

And with that the whole matter was settled for Neil. He wouldn’t parade his scars around for people to gawk at while asking questions. When word got out that District 12’s tribute was heavily scarred, his father would be coming faster than the yellow man could hose him down to make him presentable for  _ Roland _ .

What followed was a screeching yellow man that soon turned red and then a dangerous shade of purple while he threatened Neil that he would fetch Peacekeepers that would rip Neil’s clothes off or Neil would be executed promptly. At that Neil actually laughed in his face, it was something liberating that the worst possible thing had already happened so there was nothing they could blackmail him with anymore.

The yellow man stormed off eventually, but Neil was only left alone for a few seconds before the door was torn open again and this time by a fuming Wymack. This definitely wiped the smile off of Neil’s face. The man stalked toward him with a snarled, “You stupid little shit.”

Retreating from a furious older man was so instinctive Neil didn’t realize he had flinched when Wymack froze. Wymack’s face was almost dangerously blank and Neil dropped his gaze. He was still careful not to look away from the man entirely. He needed to see when Wymack started moving again.

A frail silence settled between them, and Neil realized after a few moments that Wymack wouldn’t speak until he did.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t undress in front of anyone.”

Wymack still didn’t say anything. He didn’t come closer, either. After a while he pointed at the ground in front of him. “Come here.”

Neil did as he was told, but he stopped just barely out of Wymack’s reach. “Look at me,” Wymack said and Neil dragged his stare up to his face. Wymack’s expression was still too blank for Neil to feel safe, but he knew better than to look away again.

“I want you to understand something,” Wymack started, “I am a loud, grouchy old man. I like to yell and throw things. But I don’t throw punches unless some idiot starts shit with me. I have never, ever hit someone without provocation, and I sure as hell won’t start with you. You hear me?”

Neil didn’t believe him, but he said, “Yes.”

Wymack examined him a moment longer before he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “At least you didn’t hurt anyone. Can’t say the same about your worse half the hall down.” He was talking about Andrew. “Almost broke the guy’s wrist, for fuck’s sake the people here are only doing their job, do you have to be so difficult all the time?”

It was a rhetorical question but Neil couldn’t help but answer it anyway. “I tried to be nice.” He hadn’t but what was one more lie now?

“I don’t believe you, you fucking shrimp. Just let me survive this first fucking day without anyone making life more difficult for me.”

He was spared from another smart retort by Neil when a shockingly normal looking young man entered the room. His short hair seemed to be in its natural shade of brown, and he was in a simple black shirt and trousers. The only concession to self-alteration seems to be metallic gold eyeliner that had been applied with a light hand and glimmered slightly on the man’s dark skin. He looked from Wymack to Neil before breaking into an easy smile. “I’m Roland, the stylist.” Wymack shook Roland’s hand before making his way to the door. “Behave,” he said, a warning finger pointed at Neil and then closed the door behind him.

“So Neil, there seems to be a problem?” Roland asked in a quiet, pleasant voice.

Neil eyed him warily but answered nonetheless, “I can wash myself just fine.”

Roland pressed a ringed finger against his lips as he took Neil in. “An interesting pair for District 12 this year. Here.” He crouched down in front of a metal closet and retrieved a few items from it. He handed them over to Neil and lastly a thin robe he threw over Neil’s shoulder. “I want you to wash your hair with this.” He pointed at a bright green plastic tube and then proceeded with a few more instructions of how Neil had wash himself and where to put on which lotion.

It took Neil a while; he had never used so many products on his body before. He had to shampoo his hair several times, every time with another shampoo or conditioner.

He wore the simple cotton robe and nothing else when he returned to Roland who nodded at him satisfied. “Lift your arms,” he told Neil and started to circle him with a thoughtful look on his face. He finally stopped in front of Neil. “I need to touch you as your stylist. You can get changed behind a curtain and wear a shirt and your underwear, but your costume for the opening ceremonies I need to adjust on your body. Is that alright?”

This was more than Neil had actually hoped for. He nodded and answered with a “Yes” still puzzled by the man in front of him. His curiosity eventually got the better of him again, so he asked, “You’re new, aren’t you?” Roland was nothing like the stylists Neil knew from the television or generally like someone from the Capitol.

“Yes, this is my first year in the Games,” Roland said.

“So they gave you District 12,” Neil concluded. Newcomers would usually end up with the least desirable district. A private little smile crossed Roland’s lips. “I asked for District 12,” he said without any further explanation. “Now follow me, let’s have a little chat.”

Neil followed him through a door into a sitting room. Two red couches faced each other over a low table. Three walls were blank; the fourth was entirely glass, providing a window to the city. Neil could see by the light that it must be around noon, although the sunny sky had turned overcast.

Roland invited him to sit on one of the couches and took his place across from Neil.

“So, Neil, about your costume for the opening ceremonies. I already talked to your fellow tribute, Andrew. He didn’t agree with his stylist, so I’ll be responsible for the both of you.” He smiled a little at that and Neil wondered what Andrew’s disagreement looked like if Wymack had talked about broken wrists. And why Roland seemed to be more to Andrew’s liking. “My current thought is to dress you in complementary costumes,” Roland continued. “As you know, it’s customary to reflect the flavor of the district.”

For the opening ceremonies, the tributes were supposed to wear something that suggested the district’s principle industry. District 11, agriculture, District 4, fishing, District 8, textiles and for District 12 this meant some kind of coal miner’s get-up.

Neil didn’t care much for the details, as long as he didn’t have to be naked for it. He knew of one year, where District 12’s tributes had been stark naked and covered in black powder to represent coal dust.

“So a coal miner’s outfit?” Neil asked and hoped this whole thing would soon to be over. Without answering Roland got up and rounded the table to sit down next to Neil. It was a little too close for Neil’s liking but he said nothing, he had been difficult enough for today.

“May I?” Roland asked and after Neil’s nodded consent, ran his hand through Neil’s thick hair. Then he let his hands wander over Neil’s face and brushed lightly the sensitive skin under Neil’s eyes. “They are dyed,” he noted. “Any particular reason why?”

Neil’s heart started to beat wildly in his chest, and he swallowed several times dryly. “I don’t like their color.” A weak excuse and Roland thought the same if the skeptical rise of his eyebrow was anything to go by.

“Your eyes have an amazing shade of blue. Let’s use them.”

Neil immediately shook his head, “No.” Then he froze and asked with a rough voice, “How do you know?”

Roland only smiled at him, but then explained, “I am a stylist. It’s my job to know such things.” Of all people in Panem, Neil had thought a stylist would be the last person to get any secrets out of him. Yet here he was sitting with Roland who had gotten two out of him without even trying.

“Okay, Neil. We keep the black hair even though I’m sure your natural color would fit the theme of this costume perfectly. But let me help you with your eyes. The sponsors need to see your appeal. Allison told me your face is going to be your weapon. Make it remarkable.”

Remarkable. Appealing. All things Neil had avoided his whole life up until now. His chances of surviving had depended on how much he could blend in with a crowd. He was also fairly certain his mother had thought his eyes unbearable as they were the same as his father’s.

“You want to win the Games, right?” Roland watched him attentively, and Neil closed his eyes for a moment. It was unlikely that his eyes would save him from his father eventually. He would recognize Neil, no matter what color they were. But if there was a slim chance that those detested eyes could help him win the Games, he might as well try it.

“Yes,” Neil said, eyes on Roland, “I want to win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol rip Roland have fun doing this job with the worst people ever... also where are the other Foxes???  
> I am writing and writing and writing and nothing actually happens except for Andrew's 6th grade flirting and unnecessary descriptions of the environment. Originally I wanted Roland to be Andrew's stylist and give Neil someone else but honestly? There aren't enough characters.  
> Leave a comment if you have anything to say :) or hit me up on tumblr [vaasmontefuckyou](http://vaasmontefuckyou.tumblr.com/)


	3. Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a little bit undecided about this chapter tbh ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> A few new faces appear and honestly this is going to be so slow I just realized. So much is going to happen, I intend to write the whole revolution and everything :") adding Neil's and Andrew's individual stories this is going to be so long...  
> Also THANK YOU so much for the comments and kudos I am so happy people actually read this!!

As it turned out, Roland thought the coal miner’s thing was very overdone. No one would remember Neil and Andrew in that, so Roland saw it as his purpose to make the District 12 tributes unforgettable.

While he was cutting Neil’s hair, he started to explain, “So rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we’re going to focus on the coal.” Naked and covered in black dust, Neil thought and his mouth twitched. “And what do we do with coal? We burn it,” Roland said. “You’re not afraid of fire, are you, Neil?” He saw Neil’s expression and grinned.

 

A few hours later, Neil found himself in one of the most constricting pieces of clothing he had ever worn. Roland had kept his word, and Neil had been allowed to change out of the thin robe and into a thin shirt that covered his scars and underwear. Afterwards Roland and two of his assistants had squeezed him into something that Andrew probably wouldn’t completely loath to wear.

Neil was in a simple black unitard that covered him from ankle to neck and shiny leather boots laced up to his knees. Then Roland and his assistant fixed the fluttering cape made of streams of orange, yellow and red on his shoulders.Roland planned to set them on fire just before their chariot rolled into the streets.

“It’s not a real flame, of course, just a little synthetic fire my assistants and I came up with. You’ll be perfectly safe,” he said. But Neil was not entirely convinced he wouldn’t be perfectly barbecued by the time they reached the city’s centre. On the other hand he could appreciate the funny site of it, a simple Capitol stylist would have managed what his father had failed to do since his birth.

Lastly, Roland approached him to dye his eyes back to their original color. Neil was glad he had waited till the last possible moment and that there were no mirrors in sight. He blinked a few times after the liquid was dribbled into his eyes. Roland nodded satisfied, “Perfect.”

After that he vanished, and Neil was left alone for another hour to eat a light meal under one of Roland’s assistant’s strict supervision so he wouldn’t smudge the make-up on his face. It was nothing too flashy, just a bit of highlighting here and there, Roland wanted the audience to recognize Neil in the arena. “Neil, the boy who was on fire,” he had said.

It crossed Neil’s mind that Roland’s calm and normal demeanor masked a complete madman.

Despite Andrew’s absolute craziness and violent behavior, Neil actually felt a little bit relieved when he showed up with Roland, dressed in an identical costume. Better a known enemy than the unknown people that had been fluttering around him all day. While Roland was talking to his assistants quietly, Andrew stopped and studied Neil with something else than his usual indifference. Neil returned the gaze and took his chance to look Andrew over.

Not much had changed, Andrew had gotten the same treatment as Neil for his appearance except his blond locks had not been cut; they were only a little ruffled which gave him a raffish look.

At the next moment Andrew began to move, right towards Neil, who stifled the urge to step back but crossed his arms defensively over his chest. Andrew stopped right in front of him and neither of them moved for a few moments. Eventually, Andrew moved, though, but only to reach out for Neil with one hand. Neil tensed as Andrew’s fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, but he only wanted to pull Neil’s head down. Neil focused on Andrew’s cheekbone to not go cross-eyed and let him study his eyes.

“A bit of unexpected honesty,” Andrew said. “Any particular reason why?”

Neil frowned at the exact same wording Roland had used to ask about his hair and eyes, but answered anyway, “Roland asked nicely. You might try it sometime.”

“Oh Neil, I never ask.” Andrew gave Neil another slow once-over and let go. “I’m sure Roland is very nice,” he added before turning away and making his way over to where the stylist waited. He had watched them with a bemused look on his face that actually turned into a mischievous grin when Andrew said something to him.

 

Soon they were whisked down to the bottom level of the Remake Center, which was essentially a gigantic stable. Down there the others were already waiting for them. Neil spotted Allison first with her golden hair. It glimmered under the light, and her lips and dress had the same color. Wymack and Renee had also changed into something finer even though they stuck to a normal color scheme, Renee in a high-necked, pastel-colored dress and Wymack had simply thrown a blue suit coat over his black shirt.

Nicky was the only one besides Allison who had taken full advantage of the Capitol’s clothing offers and felt obviously comfortable in his gold and blue suit. When Neil came closer to them he could see the glitter around his eyes. Next to Nicky, Aaron looked so out of place in his simple blue shirt and dark trousers, it was almost funny.

Nicky perked up as they approached, but his happy expression faltered when he got a look at Neil. “Oh, man. Neil, you clean up good. What’s with the eyes, damn you look really fine. Now that you are a tribute you’re technically a celebrity, right?” No one answered him, but Aaron’s expression turned sour. “Can you stop with this disgusting shit for like one damn second?” 

Nicky brushed him off with a dismissive wave. “Shut up, you’re only jealous because Katelyn is not here.” He turned to Neil and grinned at him brightly. “I guess you’re my number three now.”

Neil had no idea what he was talking about, but his chance to ask passed as the opening ceremonies were about to start. Pairs of tributes were being loaded into chariots pulled by teams of four horses. District 12’s were coal-black. The animals were so well trained, no one needed to guide their reins.

Roland and Allison directed them into the chariot and carefully arranged their body positions. Roland did so without touching Andrew at all, while Allison had fewer restraints with Neil and pushed him around a little.

The opening music started to play. It was easy to hear, blasted around the Capitol. A massive door slid open, revealing the crowd-lined streets.

The ride would last about twenty minutes and ended up at the City Circle, where they would be welcomed while the anthem played. Then they’d be escorted into the Training Center, which would be their home/prison until the Games started.

The tributes from District 1 rode out in a chariot pulled by snow-white horses. Two girls with media-trained smiles on their faces and their skin spray-painted silver, wearing tunics glittering with jewels. Fitting for District 1 which made luxury items for the Capitol. The crowd roared for them; they were always favorites.

District 2 got into position to follow them, and Neil caught a glimpse of the two giant tributes. The girl was already massive, but the boy was a bear of a human being. He reminded Neil of a gorilla, and the disgusting smile he prepared for the crowd made his skin crawl.

“Happy to see people from your old district, Neil?” Andrew asked next to him, close to Neil’s ear. Unintentionally, Neil’s eyes darted to District 1’s corner, looking for the tribute’s escorts and mentors. He couldn’t find them in the chaos that surrounded them until suddenly Andrew grabbed his chin and forced his eyes to the massive doors where District 8’s tributes were leaving  at this very moment. “Liar,” he whispered and patted Neil’s cheek before Neil recoiled from him. There was no time left for him to defend himself, though, as they were already approaching the door, and Roland appeared with a lighted torch.

The tributes from District 11 were just rolling out, and Neil could see that between the overcast sky and the evening hour the light was turning gray.

“Here we go then,” Roland said, and before Neil could react he set their capes on fire. Neil pressed his eyes shut waiting for the heat, but there was only a faint tickling sensation. Roland let out a sigh of relief. “It works.”

He climbed up before them and pressed his index finger between Neil’s eyebrows until the wrinkle there disappeared. He looked from Neil to Andrew and then said, “I would tell you to smile, but I know you are both too stubborn for me to make you do anything. Remember though, heads high. Give them something.” He jumped off the chariot and gave them both thumbs up as he returned to the others and out of Neil’s sight.

The crowd’s roaring went right through Neil and to his head where a headache was forming. He could feel the cold anxiety sweat under the costume, and he started to chew on his bottom lip.

“Stop it,” Andrew told him in a steady voice. Neil looked at him and realized that ablaze with the fake fire flames he was absolutely dazzling. It was the last thing Neil saw before they entered the city.

The crowd’s initial alarm at their appearance quickly changed into cheers and loud shouts of “District 12!”

Every head was turned their way, pulling the focus from the three chariots ahead of them. Bewildered, Neil watched as the crowd went completely nuts at Andrew’s complete lack of acknowledgement. He didn’t even deign to look at them while Neil was too overwhelmed to do anything else but stare dumbfounded. That was until Neil caught sight of them on a large television screen, and he was floored by how breathtaking Andrew actually looked.

In the deepening twilight, the firelight illuminated his face, and they both seemed to be leaving a trail of fire off the flowing capes. Neil turned his head to Andrew and then back to the screen where he finally saw himself and his father’s blue eyes staring right back at him.

At once the breath was knocked out of Neil’s lungs, and he couldn’t breathe anymore. He grabbed the chariot tighter, but he couldn’t stop looking at the icy blue eyes on the screen and seeing his father’s cruel smirk. Black spots danced in the corner of his vision.

Suddenly a strong hand grabbed his neck and a thumb pressed down, just under his left ear.

“If you black out here I will throw you out of this fucking chariot. You are really pathetic, Neil.”

Andrew’s face was so close Neil could see the make-up on his skin. Neil stared silently and watched how the firelight flickered off Andrew’s hazel eyes. For a moment he forgot where he was, saw his mother’s burning corpse against the night sky, and suddenly he felt calm. He straightened himself, still keeping his focus on Andrew who simply stared back, eyes dull but the grip in Neil’s nape strong.

Around them the people of the Capitol went absolutely mad, showering them with flowers and shouting their names. That brought Neil eventually back and he looked around, for some reason Andrew’s quick show of support excited the people, brought them from their seats and made them remember their names. Roland truly had given them a great advantage, no one would forget them. What was it that he had said? Neil, the boy who was on fire.

A small flicker of hope dared to rise up inside of Neil. There had to be a sponsor out there to take him on! And with a little extra help, some food, the right weapon, why should he count himself out of the Games just yet?

The grip on his neck vanished and suddenly Neil was alone again. He glanced at Andrew from the corner of his eye. Andrew would be there too. Neil swallowed and looked away, burying his hope deep down as he looked straight ahead.

Andrew would be there, too. To kill him.

The twelve chariots filled the loop of the City Circle. On the buildings that surrounded the Circle, every window was packed with the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol. Neil wasn’t worried about his father or his people watching, though. In all his years at home, his father had not once attended any opening ceremonies or allowed it for Neil and his mother. He had other things to do as the president’s right hand man.

The horses pulled the chariots right up to President Moriyama’s mansion, and they came to a halt. The music ended with a flourish.

Kengo Moriyama and his son Ichirou gave the official welcome from a balcony above them. Riko, Kengo’s second-born, and his uncle Tetsuji were of course not present. Tetsuji Moriyama was the Head Gamemaker and responsible for the presentation of the tributes to the audience; he was most likely in the control room right now, directing camera work and music. Over the years Neil had learned the complicated branching system of the ruling family and therefore the reason Riko had never and would never stand on this balcony with his father and brother. Malicious gossip said that the only time Riko had actually seen his father face to face had been after he had won the Games three years ago.

It was traditional to cut away to the faces of the tributes during the speech. But Neil could see on the screen that he and Andrew got way more than their share of airtime. The darker it became, the more difficult it was to take eyes off their flickering. When the national anthem played, they did make an effort to do a quick cut around to each pair of tributes, but the camera held on District 12’s chariot as it paraded around the circle one final time and disappeared into the Training Center.

The doors had only just shut behind them when Andrew and Neil were engulfed by their group. Nicky almost dragged Neil down before Renee neatly slipped in between and redirected Nicky’s excitement towards something else. That gave Andrew and Neil time to dismount the chariot, and Roland and one of his assistants extinguished the fire with some kind of spray from a canister.

“Oh that was so good, so good! Neil you looked so fucking good, it was hypnotizing, honestly! Your eyes man and the flames! The flames I almost died!” Nicky chattered enthusiastically. “And when Andrew held your neck! I don’t know about you guys, but my heart literally stopped beating. The unity you showed, the solidarity! The people were this close jumping in front of the horses.”

“If only your heart would have stopped beating forever,” Aaron murmured and gave Neil a nasty look for some reason.

Allison stepped in before Nicky could react and gave Andrew a slow once over. “Who would have thought the monster had it in him? That little show you pulled out there may actually bring the odds in your favor.”

Unimpressed, Andrew shoved past them to grab a glass of water from the tray a servant was darting around with. He emptied it before thrusting it back into the servant’s hand. He pointed a finger at Neil and said, “I won’t be associated with a district where one of the tributes can’t even look at themselves without panicking. I have better things to do than to clean up behind your many personal issues,  _ Neil _ .”

“And I have better things to do than listen to you whining about everything I do,” Neil snapped back annoyed. “I don’t know what you’re trying to find, but my personal life is honestly not that fucking deep,  _ Andrew _ .” It was, but Andrew constantly assessing every step Neil took was slowly grating on his nerves.

“Wow, not so united behind the scenes, are we?” An unfamiliar but cheerful voice suddenly piped up. Neil’s eyes found the face of a giant that grinned down at him. His dark hair was gelled to spikes that made him look even taller than he already was.

He held out a hand to shake which Neil only reluctantly took. “The name’s—”

“Matt Boyd! Number four on my list!” Nicky interrupted him delighted from over Neil’s shoulder. Matt looked bewildered for a second but then grinned and let Neil’s hand go for Nicky’s. Nicky introduced himself and then his cousins who both looked like they didn’t belong here, or at least tried to.

Matt turned back to Neil and pointed at his costume. “Talk’s already big on you two. And with that performance it’ll only grow.” He quickly glanced to Roland who was talking to Renee. “Sharing one stylist is a little uncommon too.”

Neil had no idea what Matt actually wanted from him or what he was even talking about. He was saved from making awkward conversation, though, because Wymack approached with a young woman by his side. Her hair was cut short and Neil recognized her immediately as Danielle Wilds. He couldn’t remember her district, but he remembered her winning the games a few years ago. She had been powerful, even District 1’s and 2’s tributes hadn’t stood a chance against the woman and her dual axes.

“Boyd, stop pestering my tributes. Don’t you have to do some mentoring yourself?” Wymack asked and pointed in the general direction of the chariot with the tributes and other mentor of District 6.

Matt only laughed, “Coach, I’m only here to see old friends and maybe to make some new ones.” He winked at Renee, “You’re looking good as ever, Renee.”

Renee chuckled and gave the compliment right back as Wymack muttered, “Stop calling me that.”

“Everyone calls you that, Coach!” Danielle grinned and deftly slid an arm around Matt’s waist. She studied Andrew and Neil before offering Neil her hand. “Danielle Wilds, District 7. Everyone calls me Dan though.”

Neil wished this tedious introduction nonsense would finally end. He was tired and done with this day. He shook her hand nevertheless. “Neil Josten.”

She laughed at that, “I know. I don’t think there is a single person out there who doesn’t.”

Neil glanced around and indeed, a lot of the other tributes were shooting them dirty looks which confirmed what Neil had already suspected; they had literally outshone them all. An unpleasant notion for Neil, it wasn’t good to outshine others. The thought of what his mother would do if she’d been here right now crossed Neil’s mind. Probably kill him so he wouldn’t die the slow, painful death his father had in store for him.

Matt actually attempted to make conversation with Andrew, but he just stared at Matt until the man gave up and came back to Neil. “He’s really tough to crack. But that will give your little touchy thing out there a lot more meaning. Whose idea was it?”

While Matt was talking, Neil had let his eyes scan the area for fast exits out of habit (and because he wanted to leave), when he caught sight of green eyes and a black 2 in the crowd. Neil blinked slowly, but Kevin Day was still walking straight up to him. He couldn’t look away, Kevin looked exactly like in his interviews, except now he wore a little frown as he noticed Neil’s blank stare. But there was nothing of the grinning kid from eight years ago in his features left. The corners of his mouth were turned downward and his rich brown skin had an ashen tone as if he felt sick.

“-eil, Neil?” Someone waved a hand in front of his face. “Did I break him?” Matt asked Nicky who looked a little worried as well. That was until he followed Neil’s gaze and gasped softly. “Kevin Day! To think I’d meet two, three and four in one day…” Matt noticed the man making his way to them now as well and groaned softly.

“Here we go,” Dan whispered before schooling her expression into a cool mask. People turned and stared at Kevin, a tribute from District 10 actually let his jaw drop before one of his mentors hit him on the back of his head.

Kevin Day was undeniably the Capitol’s darling. His mother, Kayleigh Day, had won the very first Hunger Games thirty-four years ago. After her death when Kevin still had been a child, he had been adopted by Tetsuji Moriyama, the second winner of the Games and Kayleigh’s old friend. He lived with Riko as his adoptive-brother in District 1, where the children were trained from day one to participate in the Games and also to win them.

So far, the last three victors of the Games had all been from District 1 and had been marked by Riko.

Neil thought about fighting with wooden swords against Kevin and Riko and watching them tracing the numbers on their faces with marker the second they would fade. Kevin had been an exceptional fighter, even as a kid. The year he had volunteered as a tribute had been the year with the shortest Games in history. Three days and Kevin had emerged victorious from the arena.

Now, however, Kevin had fallen to the realm of mortals. He cradled his left hand in his right, but Neil could still see its broken shape. Six months ago he had broken his hand severely on a skiing trip, because Capitol people apparently did stuff like that. It had ruined Kevin’s chances to become this year’s Gamemaker by Tetsuji’s side. The honor was all Riko’s now.

“Coach,” Kevin acknowledged Wymack with a nod, while ignoring the other mentors completely.

“Nice to see you, too, Kevin,” Dan said, irritated, and threw her hands up, exasperated, when Kevin only spared her a short glimpse. His eyes went right over Matt and Nicky and stopped at Neil. There was no shocked recollection or any other sign of Kevin realizing who stood right in front of him, and yet Neil couldn’t help but step away. He didn’t make it far; his back brushed against a solid form that turned out to be Andrew.

Andrew gave him a bored look over Neil’s shoulder before pushing him off him.

“You made quite the spectacle today,” Kevin stated, appraising them both with a conceited look before settling for Andrew.

“You,” Andrew said and snapped a finger at Roland, “help me get this thing off me.” He meant the costume. It was as if Kevin had not even talked.

Before Roland could even say anything, Andrew was already heading in the general direction of the exit. Roland excused himself swiftly and followed him. Neil wanted to go as well, but Kevin planted himself in front of him like an annoying, giant warden. Why was everyone so tall?

“Don’t start to relax just yet. Looking pretty alone will not make you win the Games.”

Neil’s initial fear, that Kevin could reveal his true identity, quickly turned into annoyance. There was nothing to be afraid of. Kevin couldn’t even see Neil on his high horse, even if Neil carried his birth and family name around in neon letters.

“Parading around and talking shit no one cares about will also not make your tributes win the Games,” Neil retorted. The twitch of Kevin’s eye indicated Neil’s response was not appreciated. But before anything else could happen, and Neil was ready for something to happen, Allison stepped in. “Okay, Mr. Big-Mouth, it’s time to go.” She actually looked over her shoulder and not at Neil at all when she said that. Neil tried to see what she was seeing, but Renee helped her herd him towards the door. All he could make out was a mentor from District 10 shoving bodies out of his way, heading towards them. Dan and Matt stayed behind, grinning and waving with a sullen looking Kevin Day, arms crossed over his chest.

 

The Training Center had a tower designed exclusively for the tributes and their teams. This would be Neil’s home until the actual Games began. Each district had an entire floor, and as they were District 12 they would reside in the penthouse. The walls of the elevator were made out of crystal, so it was possible to watch the people on the ground floor shrink to ants as the cabin shot up in the air.

The second they stepped out of the elevator everyone fanned out to find food and a shower. Neil’s quarters were larger than Coach Hernandez’s entire house back in District 12. They were plush, like the train car, but also had so many automatic gadgets that Neil gave up trying to figure them out after one second. The shower alone had a panel with more than a hundred options to choose from, regulating water temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils and massaging sponges. When he stepped out on a mat, heaters came on and blow-dried his body. Instead of struggling with taming his wet hair, he merely placed a hand on a box that sent a current through his scalp, untangling and drying his hair almost instantly. It felt soft when he ran a hand through it.

Neil somehow managed to avoid the giant mirror taking up the whole wall and returned to the main room where he programmed the wardrobe for an outfit to his taste, simple cut and plain colors.

The windows zoomed in and out on parts of the city at his command, but Neil set it on a simple, starry night sky. It reminded him of nights spent with his mother when they had lived between districts. Between the districts lay wide patches of untouched nature, dangerous of course, but also unwatched from the Capitol. Neil had learned hunting in thick forests and solitary mountain ranges.

Here, he had only to whisper a type of food from a gigantic menu into a mouthpiece and it appeared, hot and steamy, in less than a minute.

Neil wasn’t hungry, though, so he lay down on the big, soft bed that could hold six people of Matt Boyd’s build. He stared at the dark ceiling littered with hundreds of tiny lights that looked like stars should Neil choose to turn them on. He was itching for a cigarette; the memories of his mother’s death lingering just under the surface after the fire show from earlier.

Neil didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually there was a knock and Allison was calling him for dinner.

Andrew, Wymack, Nicky, Renee, Aaron and Roland were standing out on a balcony that overlooked the Capitol when Allison and Neil entered the dining room. Neil immediately noticed the orange glimmer against the night sky in Andrew’s and Wymack’s hands. He licked his lips but looked away from the cigarettes. For some reason he didn’t want them to know about his craving. Besides, in the arena he had to endure a much longer time without the calming smell of a cigarette so he might as well get used to it. Maybe Andrew would put himself out of the picture by going mad from nicotine withdrawal.

A silent young woman, dressed in a white tunic offered them all stemmed glasses of wine. Neil turned his down which earned him a disappointed sigh from Nicky who “wanted to see Neil loosen up a little bit” and a simple, bland stare from Andrew. They all stood around in quiet conversations when Nicky sought him out, already on his third wine glass. “So Neil,” he started, and Neil tried to gracefully slip out of his reach with moderate success. “Care to settle a bet for me and the guys?”

Neil frowned but didn’t say anything which Nicky took as encouragement to continue. “Say, for which team do you play?”

Now Neil was completely lost and did nothing to hide his utter confusion. Maybe Nicky was already drunk and had no idea what he was talking about? Aaron, who was watching them from a safe distance, sighed and came closer. “He wants to know which way you swing. Sexually.” Neil stared at them, wondering how anyone could care about such things when they were basically only here because Neil would be dead a few weeks from now.

“What’s it matter?” he asked.

“We’re curious,” Nicky said, drawing Neil’s attention to everyone eavesdropping, except for Wymack and Andrew. Wymack just walked away as he if he didn’t know anyone and Andrew seemed to be uninterested either way, helping himself to a glass of whiskey.

“He means he’s fucking nosy and dragged everyone into it,” Aaron clarified, apparently still interested in the money he could make by prying into Neil’s privacy, though.

“Well, I don’t swing either way,” Neil said. “Do I get the money now?”

“Bullshit,” Allison and Nicky said in unison and actually had the audacity to look offended.

“I don’t,” Neil said, and impatience put an edge in his voice. He actually wasn’t sure if that was even the truth, but his mother had made sure he wouldn’t question it. And he  _ wasn’t _ interested. Allison’s daring dresses did nothing to him and neither did Renee’s sweet smiles or Dan’s muscular body. He felt nothing when watching Nicky laugh in his skin-tight shirts or tall, dark and handsome Matt Boyd charming his way into people’s hearts. He certainly felt nothing but irritation when looking at Andrew.

Any further talk about Neil’s preferences was prevented by dinner being served.

Renee, Nicky, Allison and Roland kept the small talk alive while Neil concentrated on his meal. The first course was a mushroom soup the silent servants put down in front of everyone. Neil tried to evade looking at the young man and woman making their round around the table.

They were Avox, people who had committed a crime, quite likely treason against the Capitol, and their tongues had been cut out for it. The young man with the red hair put the soup in front of Neil and for a second their eyes met. Neil almost knocked the soup plate from the table in shock, but he froze halfway through. He knew the boy. And in the split second the young man had looked at him, Neil was sure he had recognized Neil, too.

Maybe eight or nine years ago his father had called Neil to his study. A room Neil had only seen once before from the inside and otherwise had not been allowed to enter. He had knocked carefully, not too weak or his father would have gotten angry, but also not with too much force or his father would also have gotten… angry.

When the voice of his father had told him to come in, he had done so. The floor of the room had been covered in plastic foil and on it had stood a chair with a young boy in it, maybe a couple of years older than Neil had been.

“Junior, today I will teach you something about your hands and what you can do with their force alone.” For a man of his father’s height and build it was absolutely possible to rip someone’s tongue out with nothing but his hands.

What were the odds? That boy from back then here, to serve the soon to be dead son of the man who had literally ripped his tongue out. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone knew. Someone had put this boy here intentionally. Maybe he actually worked for his father and was here to retrieve Neil.

Neil’s paranoia slowly got out of control as he ate the soup mechanically, while Nicky talked about something from District 4. When the main course was served, Neil saw the hand of the young man shaking. His face was a blank mask, but he was as shocked as Neil to be confronted with him. Was it a coincidence after all?

Neil realized he was only one step away from jumping up and running away. He had nowhere to run; the second he stepped out of the elevator, guards would drag him back up and probably into his quarters, locked up and under constant surveillance. He needed something to take his mind off of this steadily rising panic and caught up on Nicky’s last sentence.

“Who is Erik?” he asked, unaware of the many dirty looks the others sent him for it. What followed was a long winded story about Erik Klose from District 4 and Nicky’s one true love. Nicky had left him behind when he had moved to District 12 for his cousins. It was obvious Nicky was dying to talk about Erik, and he kept Neil’s mind occupied for the rest of the dinner and dessert, if only barely. Aaron would groan from time to time and say insensitive, actually hurtful things that Nicky only brushed off. Renee tried to keep her serene smile but after an extensive description of how Erik in particular ate this certain kind of fish, even hers became strained.

Roland managed to direct the discussion to Andrew’s and Neil’s upcoming interview and his ideas for costumes which everyone, even Wymack and Aaron gladly jumped onto so they wouldn’t have to listen about Nicky’s boyfriend anymore. Nicky was too drunk to really care and just went with the flow.

After the dessert, another cake that Neil didn’t touch so Andrew took his plate again with a shrug, they moved into a sitting room to watch the replay of the opening ceremonies that was being broadcasted. This actually took Neil’s mind off the young man cleaning up in the dining room, especially after Nicky’s comment about District 10 in their awful golden cowboy costumes and how Andrew and Neil had been really lucky with Roland. The thought of Andrew wearing the sequined golden cowboy hat and a lasso made Neil’s mouth twitch in amusement.

When their chariot rolled over the television screen Nicky sighed happily and Wymack nodded satisfied. The moment Andrew grabbed Neil’s neck felt suddenly incredibly embarrassing from this point of view. Neil felt the heat crawling up his cheeks as he watched himself staring at Andrew like a complete idiot in front of the whole world. Fortunately, everyone was busy watching Neil make a fool out of himself on screen and didn’t notice him having a mental breakdown right there.

His group and the people of the Capitol saw it as a sign of solidarity, team spirit. Not just two tributes barely looking at each other, but partners.

For Neil it looked like weakness and he knew, he  _ knew _ , he probably owed Andrew his future sponsors. Because without Andrew he would have blacked out during the Game’s opening ceremonies and afterwards he’d have been nothing but prey for the other tributes. Open season on him during the Games.

“The perfect touch of rebellion,” said Renee and smiled at Andrew who gave her an unimpressed look in return. It was true, this little display had distinguished them from the other tributes even more.

“Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me and Renee for breakfast and I’ll tell you exactly how I want you to play it,” Wymack told Andrew and Neil. “Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk.”

Neil was all too happy to leave the others behind and crawl under the sheets and contemplate his options. Essentially, it made no difference if the Avox man knew Neil or if he was here by chance or not. His father couldn’t just simply drag Neil out of the Training Center, kidnapping (and eventually killing) a tribute and therefore jeopardizing the Games. His father would have to wait until after the Games, and Neil’s chance of leaving the arena was meager at best. So no, he wouldn’t have to worry about waking up tonight with his father awaiting him. He would lock his door, though.

Andrew and Neil walked together down the corridor to their rooms. The others had their rooms on the other side of the suite, separated from the tributes. When they reached Neil’s door, Andrew leaned against the frame, neatly blocking Neil’s way.

“I told you that I have better things to do than cleaning up behind your many issues, Neil.”

“Then don’t.” Neil had no idea what this was about again. He tried to shove his way past Andrew, but he was an immovable obstacle, hell-bent on harassing Neil.

“So tell me about your little Avox friend there.” Of course Andrew had noticed. There was apparently nothing he didn’t notice, even though he looked like he was disassociating most of the time.

Irritated, Neil realized he had to tell Andrew  _ something _ now, or else the other boy would never leave him alone.

But not here, Neil was pretty sure the Capitol was watching them even now.

Andrew noticed his look and understood. “Have you been on the roof yet?” Neil shook his head and Andrew pushed himself off the frame and led the way.

“Can we just go up?” Neil asked as he followed Andrew to a flight of stairs. Andrew didn’t answer him, but opened the door that led to the roof without any problem.

They stepped into the cool, windy evening air and for a second Neil was speechless at the view. The Capitol twinkled like a vast field of fireflies. This had been Neil’s home and strangely enough it still felt familiar. He knew the streets and remembered his mother’s favorite shops. He could tell from up here in which direction his old home was located.

He walked with Andrew to a railing at the edge of the roof. Neil looked straight down to the street, which was buzzing with people. When Neil looked over to Andrew, he was also looking down, gaze intent.

“Why do they let us up here? Aren’t they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?” Neil asked Andrew.

Andrew shrugged. “You can’t.” He picked a cigarette out of his trousers pocket and flung it over the edge. There’s a sharp zap and the cigarette flew right back to them, landing on the ground behind them.

“An electric field,” Neil observed. “Touching, how they are always worried about our safety.”

Andrew bent down and picked the cigarette up from the ground. He fetched a lighter and lit the cigarette before he returned to the railing, back pressed against it and eyes on Neil. “So talk, rabbit.”

Neil crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes slightly. “Why are you so interested in what I do? It’s none of your business and you shouldn’t care anyway.”

“I shouldn’t,” Andrew said and took a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke in Neil’s face. “You made it my business, though, when you dragged Nicky along.”

With a frown Neil fanned the smoke away. He waited for Andrew to elaborate, but he simply stared past Neil’s head at something only he could see. They stood in silence like this for minutes, Andrew smoking and Neil breathing in the smell that helped him relax. Eventually, Andrew stubbed the cigarette on the railing out and tilted his head slightly. “You’ll either tell me now what happened at dinner with the Avox and if it’s going to be a problem, or I’ll force it out of you. Which one do you prefer?”

“You wouldn’t even know how,” Neil retorted, unbothered by Andrew’s threat. He remembered the sheaths in Andrew’s armbands, though, and how quickly he could draw a knife on Neil. He sighed. “Fine.”

Neil looked over the city’s panorama and said, “I know him.” Absentmindedly, he started to rub the scar over his navel he had earned after the boy’s tongue had been ripped out. Of course Neil had done something wrong, even though he had only stood there motionless while watching his father work. “My father,” he closed his eyes, battling bile that threatened to come up, “is kind of the reason he is an Avox now.”

“Is it going to be a problem?” Andrew asked, no reaction whatsoever about Neil’s revelation. He wanted to know if the Avox might seek out revenge or somehow meant harm for Andrew’s brother and cousin, Neil suddenly understood.

“No.” Neil was sure. Why bother if Neil would die in a few weeks anyways, and for the entertainment of the people he had once belonged to. The Avox man would get his revenge, even if it wasn’t first-hand.

Another moment of silence passed. “You aren’t from District 8.” It wasn’t a question so Neil said nothing.

Andrew pushed off the railing and walked past Neil. “Fine, Pinocchio. I let you go for now. But don’t think I am not onto your little lying game.”

He left the roof and only too late Neil realized what Andrew had just said. How would a commoner from District 12 know about an ancient children’s book character that wasn’t even that popular in the Capitol? It was time for Neil to get some answers as well.

Back in his room, he didn’t bother changing out of his shirt, instead he buried his nose in it and took the cold cigarette smoke in before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously couldn't put the Foxes in the arena with Andrew and Neil (yet lol)  
> I really considered it, I thought about Matt as a tribute Neil would like but then I realized he would die......... Matt Boyd dead..... and no. Not goingt to happen (yet. who knows, not me) There are going to be a few familiar faces though.  
> Also I liked the bit with Katniss and the Avox girl in the book, but was unsure if I should put a similar story with Neil in this fic. Eventually I decided to do it because I needed an excuse for Andrew and Neil to start *talking* and in case y'all forgot how horrible Nathan is, have a little reminder.  
> (Also I noticed this looks like Andrew and Roland are already fooling around with each other?? which is not the case)


	4. Temper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the other characters are not appearing as often as I would like them to. The first half of this fic concentrates mainly on Andrew and Neil and their developement, before I put the others into the mix.  
> For those who don't know her, Robin Cross is from Nora's extra content on tumblr, you can read [here](http://korakos.tumblr.com/post/126963695002/i-definitely-recommend-just-skipping-this-post) about her.

Neil’s sleep was filled with disturbing dreams. He was back in his father’s study, only this time his father ripped Neil’s tongue out while the other boy watched, mouth smeared with blood. His father’s face changed into that of his mother who was kneeling on Neil’s chest while stitching his tongue back on. With every stitch she murmured, “Don't look back, don't slow down, and don't trust anyone. Be anyone but yourself, and never be anyone for too long.”

Neil tried to repeat the words, but his mouth was filled with blood and he couldn’t move his tongue. The weight of his mother on his chest vanished, and suddenly he was standing on a roof with Andrew. It wasn’t the Training Center’s roof; Neil didn’t know where he was. He recognized the Capitol but wasn’t sure about which part of it.

“Now you can’t lie anymore, Neil,” Andrew said. Neil opened his mouth to respond, but the second his lips parted, blood flowed out with his teeth following after. His tongue stuck to the back of his throat; he felt like suffocating.

Neil bolted up, a scream dying on his lips before it could leave his mouth.

Dawn was breaking through the windows. The Capitol had a misty, haunted air. Neil’s head ached and he could taste blood in his mouth. He must have bitten into the side of his cheek in the night. Slowly, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. He arbitrarily punched some buttons on the control board and ended up hopping from foot to foot as alternating jets of icy cold and steaming hot water assaulted him. Then he was deluged in lemony foam that he had to scrape off with a heavy bristled brush. He couldn’t do much about the smell. He smelled like a lemon plantation which reminded him of his time in District 11 a few years ago.

At least he was awake now.

When he was dried he followed Roland’s advising to moisturize himself with lotion even though he couldn’t see the point. But after yesterday’s success he wouldn’t question the stylist’s motives. When Neil returned to the room he found his wardrobe programmed to a particular outfit, probably Roland’s doing as well. Neil’s door was locked so Roland had probably organized for it when he had come up with Andrew earlier, after the opening ceremonies last night. He put on the tight black trousers and the long-sleeved, ice-blue tunic. It wasn’t exactly Neil’s first choice to wear, but it resembled his simple clothing style close enough. And after the flaming cape it felt much more comfortable, even though he suspected the tunic’s color was to complement his eyes.

He slipped into a pair of black leather boots and headed out to find the others for breakfast. Wymack hadn’t given them an exact time to meet and no one had contacted Neil this morning, so he just went down to the dining room by himself.

Wymack and Allison were already up and talking when Neil entered. He only wished them a good morning before helping himself to some food. The table was empty, but a long board off to the side had been laid with at least twenty dishes.

A few moments later Andrew and Renee came in, Renee smiling while Andrew headed wordlessly straight to the food, loading his plate with things that made Neil’s teeth ache. Neil also noted that Andrew wore the exact same outfit as him, only his tunic was as black as his trousers. Apparently Roland was really convinced of the partners act, which was kind of irritating. This would surely blow up in their faces once the Games started. Then again, Roland most likely knew exactly what he was doing, and Neil really didn’t have a lot of room to criticize after last night’s triumph.

He didn’t eat much, too nervous about the training. There would be eleven days in which the tributes would practice together. On the last afternoon, each of them would get a chance to perform in private before the Gamemakers. The thought of meeting the other tributes face to face made Neil queasy.

When Wymack was done with his coffee, he set the cup aside with a sigh and leaned his elbows on the table. “So, let’s get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, Renee and I can coach you separately. Decide now.”

Before Neil could take up the offer, he sure as hell wouldn’t give Andrew the advantage of knowing his fighting strategy, Andrew preempted him. “Why would you coach us separately?”

Baffled, Neil stared at Andrew who was ripping his bread roll apart, unbothered. Wymack narrowed his eyes. “You know why, Andrew.”

Andrew nodded then looked at Neil. “I do. But there are no secret skills for us to hide, right Neil?” Neil said nothing and after a second Andrew simply shrugged and turned back to Wymack. “He knows I prefer knives and that I know my way around them. And I know our little textile boy knows how to hunt. He seems to be pretty good with bow and arrow.”

This assessment of his skills from Andrew took Neil totally by surprise. First, that he had ever noticed. Neil thought Nicky was the only one who saw him trading in the bakery. Maybe Nicky had told him. Second, Andrew was talking him up right now.

“What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously.

“We both know you like to keep certain things to yourself. I am just giving our dear mentors something to work with. And before you start sputtering nonsense again, I saw the squirrels you shoot. Eight out of ten hit straight in the eye.” Andrew pointed at his own eye for emphasis.

Wymack studied Neil before he asked, “Is that true?”

Neil scowled at Andrew for laying out almost all of his cards in front of Wymack, Renee and Allison and also for knowing him so well. Of course Neil wouldn’t have told anyone about his skills, they could just spill them to everyone they knew. Renee would have probably kept Andrew updated, and he hadn’t missed the obvious friendship with some of the mentors from other districts. Allison knew practically everyone in the Capitol, so no. He didn’t trust any of them.

“I’m all right,” he answered Wymack’s question eventually. Now that it was out, he might as well go all the way and find out about Andrew’s strengths. “You can coach us together.”

Wymack nodded. “Great. Now you gave us a general idea of what you can do. There is of course no guarantee there’ll be bows and arrows in the arena or even knives. But during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, Andrew you stay clear of any knives and Neil, leave the archery to the private session.” He gave Neil a considering look. “Are you any good at trapping?”

“I know a few basic snares,” he muttered. He and his mother had never stayed long enough to make any bigger traps to catch food worth their time, and he had only just started to find them useful in District 12 to learn some more about them.

“That may be significant in terms of food,” Wymack said.

“You go to group training now,” Renee chimed in. “Spend the time trying to learn something you don’t know. Maybe throw a spear or swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot, but save showing what you’re best at until your private sessions.” She then turned to Neil, smiling, “Neil, you can join Andrew and me during our sparring sessions. Maybe I can show you one or two tricks with a knife.”

Neil’s “no” was so immediate and final that even Renee rose a questioning eyebrow. He tried to backpedal and said diplomatically, “I mean I am not really good with knives anyway. I tried it a few times with no success.” Another lie, but he could really go without having a panic attack while Renee or Andrew attacked him with a knife. Besides, he doubted she could show him anything he hadn’t already learned from Lola, his father, or even his mother. Ironically he could handle a knife probably better than a bow.

Renee accepted his excuse gracefully and stopped Allison from making a comment. Andrew didn’t react at all, but Neil knew he had just given the other tribute something to bother Neil with later again.

“One last thing,” said Wymack. “In public, I want you by each other’s side every minute.” Neil started to object immediately, but the look Wymack gave him made him shut up. Lips tightly pressed together and arms crossed, he refrained from saying anything and thereby making Wymack angry. The man continued after he made sure they both were listening. “Every minute, are we clear? It’s not open for discussion. You will be together and you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out, Allison will accompany you to training at ten.”

Neil bit his lip and stalked back to his room. It was such a fucking joke! He and Andrew going along, pretending to be partners. At some point they all had to knock it off and accept the fact that they were bitter adversaries. Maybe it gave Wymack and Renee a good feeling to act like they did not have to kill each other eventually.

It was probably Neil’s own fault, too, for accepting to train together with Andrew. Now he would be stuck with him during the group training sessions, and Andrew could watch every new skill Neil acquired during that time.

It was almost ten, so Neil brushed his teeth and splashed his face with cold water. The anger about this whole farce had temporarily blocked out his nervousness about meeting the other tributes and also Gamemakers, but now he could feel the anxiety rising again. Tetsuji and Riko both had met Neil as a child, and they would both watch the training at some point. After Kevin had failed to recognize him, Neil felt a little calmer, but there was no reason for him to relax. Not if he was about to meet another twenty-two people who wanted him dead. A familiar feeling for someone who had a target painted on his back for years now.

Neil met Allison and Andrew at the elevator, and together they rode down to the actual training rooms, below the ground level of the building. Two doors opened into an enormous gymnasium filled with various weapons and obstacle courses. Although it was not ten yet, they were the last ones to arrive. The other tributes were gathered in a tense circle. Each of them had a cloth square with their district number on it pinned to their shirts.

While someone pinned the number 12 on Neil’s back, he did a quick assessment. Unsurprisingly, he and Andrew were the only ones dressed alike.

As soon as they joined the circle, the head trainer, a tall, athletic woman named Thea, stepped up and began to explain the training schedule. Experts in each skill would remain at their stations. The tributes would be free to travel from area to area as they chose, per their mentor’s instructions. Some of the stations taught survival skills, other fighting techniques. It was forbidden to engage in any combative exercise with another tribute. There were assistants on hand if someone wanted to train with a partner.

When Thea started to read down the list of the skill stations, Neil’s eyes flittered around to the other tributes. His heart sank. Almost everyone was bigger than him, which shouldn’t be a surprise to him, but it still stung. On the other hand, half of the tributes had never been fed properly in their lives. He could see it in their bones, their skin, the hollow look in their eyes.

Neil was smaller, but overall his resourcefulness and constant survival made him swift and probably stronger than these kids who only knew hunger and work too hard for their gaunt bodies.

The exceptions were the kids from the wealthier districts, the volunteers, the ones who had been fed and trained throughout their lives for this moment. The tributes from 1, 2 and 4 traditionally had this look about them. Neil had once overheard someone calling them the Careers, short for Career Tributes. And like as not, the winner would be one of them.

The slight advantage Neil had held coming into the Training Centre, his and Andrew’s fiery entrance last night, seemed to vanish in the presence of this competition. There was nothing but contempt in the Careers glances. Each of them, the girl’s included, had probably twenty to forty kilos on Neil. The gorilla tribute from 2 most likely even more. They projected arrogance and brutality.

When Thea finally released them, they headed straight for the deadliest-looking weapons in the gym and handled them with ease.

Neil thought he was lucky that he was a fast runner. 

He glanced down to Andrew who was still by his side per Wymack’s instruction. The Career Tributes were showing off, clearly trying to intimidate the field. The others, the underfed, the incompetent shakily had their first lessons with a knife or an axe.

“Where would you like to start?” Neil asked.

Andrew didn’t look like he had even heard Neil, but then he led him to an empty station. The trainer seemed pleased to have students; it was almost like the knot-tying class was not the Hunger Games hot spot.

Andrew sat down cross-legged and started to make a few knots. Neil joined him and after the trainer realized they both knew what they were doing, he showed them a simple, excellent trap that would leave a human competitor dangling by a leg from a tree. Neil concentrated on this one skill for an hour until he had mastered it. When he looked up he saw Andrew lazing around, arms folded behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

They moved on to camouflage, but before they could reach the station a voice kept them off. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Kevin Day stood behind them, hands on his hips and a disagreeable frown on his face. Neil almost groaned, but settled for rolling his eyes before turning around. “We are training. Acquiring new skills, you know.”

“I don’t see you acquiring anything here. Why are you not doing any combat drills?”

Neil narrowed his eyes and peered at Kevin warily. What was he even doing here? “It’s none of your business,” he told him.

This actually got to Kevin because suddenly he took a step towards Neil and pushed his finger angrily into Neil’s chest. “If you are going to waste your only fucking chance to win the Games than you are even stupider than I thought. Now grab a damn sword and follow me.” He turned around and stalked off to an empty station, convinced Neil would follow him. Neil knew it was mandatory to try each station at least once, so he looked to Andrew who appeared to be bored out of his mind. He didn’t return Neil’s look when he said, “I don’t care.”

Soon after, Neil found himself facing Kevin Day with a sword in his hand. It had been years since he had held a sword last. Kevin looked a little unsteady as well, the shortsword in his right hand while he flexed his dominant left.

“Is this even allowed?” Neil asked, wondering. Wasn’t Kevin a mentor of District 1?

Kevin seemed to understand and answered, “I am not a District 1 mentor this year. I help out here.” At Neil’s furrowed eyebrows he sighed and elaborated, “Not every district has only two mentors like yours.” What he meant to say was that not every district was so bad it only ever had two winners, the arrogant asshole. “They don’t need ten mentors fussing over them. Jean and Michaela are enough this year.” Neil didn’t know a Michaela, but he knew Jean Monroe as last year’s winner of the Hunger Games and the number three in Riko’s little group of elite killers.

“Now shut up and take the right stance.”

It turned out that Kevin was even more annoying as an instructor and teacher. Neil was on the verge of throwing his sword away and just choking the life out of Kevin Day. To his complete humiliation the Career Tributes watched his clumsy attempts at attacking Kevin, who knocked him down time after time while spitting out instructions and curses.

After one hour Neil actually threw the sword away and walked over to Andrew who was sitting on the side, watching them. Kevin followed and gave Neil an unimpressed look. “With an attitude like that, you won’t make it far in the Games.” Neil scowled while he took small sips from his water bottle.

“You too, come on.” Kevin had turned to Andrew and pointed at the swords, prompting him to take one.

“No,” Andrew said.

“No?” Kevin repeated angrily, planting himself in front of Andrew with a menacing look in his eyes.

Andrew said nothing.

“You have to! This is obligatory! So quit this childish act and move your ass!”

“Or what?” Andrew stood up, tilting his head to see Kevin in the eyes. Kevin’s eyes narrowed and his glance flickered towards his sword in his hand. Andrew who had noticed that shoved Kevin out of his way; it was rather impressive how easily he did so, considering that Kevin had more than a foot on him. “You will come back here,” Kevin ordered. He was actually seething at Andrew’s disrespect..

Andrew gave him a bored look over his shoulder. “Or you’re going to kill me?”

 

The Gamemakers appeared some time before noon. Twenty or so men and women dressed in deep purple and black robes, with Tetsuji and Riko Moriyama leading the way.

They sat in the elevated stands that surrounded the gymnasium, sometimes wandering about to watch the tributes, jotting down notes, other times eating at the endless banquet that had been set for them, ignoring the lot of them.

But they did seem to be keeping their eye on the District 12 tributes. Several times Neil looked up to find one fixated on him. Riko’s dark eyes unnerved him, but there was no realization in his face. He was simply watching, and as Neil noticed, Kevin more often than any training tribute.

So the next six days passed with Andrew and Neil going quietly from station to station. Neil thought he actually did pick up some valuable skills, from starting fires (he already knew how to do that), to identifying healing plants, to making shelter. Kevin demanded every day more from Neil who was actually starting to enjoy himself, even though his arms ached and his progress was minimal. It reminded him of his time in the Training Centre in District 1 his mother had brought him to as a child. His mother had visited family while Neil had trained with Kevin and Riko. He had loved traveling to District 1 because it had meant they would stay overnight at his uncle’s place, without his father. 

Andrew simply watched them; he never engaged in any combat drills. It didn’t matter that it was mandatory, they couldn’t do much as Andrew was a walking corpse. He would die anyway. There was nothing they could threaten him with.

Breakfast and dinner were served on their floor, the only times they saw the others. Nicky and Aaron often accompanied Allison for errands through the Capitol. It was surreal to know Nicky was shopping and having a good time while Kevin let his frustration out on Neil. He hardly trained any of the other tributes with so much ferocity, and Neil wondered if he had done anything wrong.

At lunch the twenty-four tributes ate in a dining room off the gymnasium. Food was arranged on carts around the room and they could serve themselves. The Career Tributes tended to gather rowdily around one table, as if to prove their superiority, that they had no fear of one another and considered the rest beneath notice. Most of the other tributes were sitting alone, like lost sheep. No one said a word to Andrew and Neil, but Neil noticed a few looks. Not only from the Careers but also from the boy and girl from District 10. The boy was an evident Kevin admirer, and he somehow resented Neil for training with Kevin when he was so bad after all. 

Neil and Andrew ate together and since Wymack was dogging Neil about it, Neil had tried to keep up a conversation with Andrew so they would appear friendly in front of the others. After three days Neil had given up, though, because if Andrew didn’t want to do something there was really nothing he could do. On the sixth day however, Andrew put his spoon aside and tapped with his finger between them on the table. “How about a little game?”

Neil knew he would regret it, but asked anyway, “What kind of game?”

“Let’s call it a truth for a truth. You can ask me anything, and I have to be perfectly honest with you and vice versa.”

A stupid idea for a stupid game. Neil considered it with his spoon stuck between his lips. He licked the last bits of sauce from it while returning Andrew’s intent stare.

He should shoot the idea down straightaway, but he thought about their conversation on the rooftop a few nights ago. Andrew had been to the Capitol before, and there were truly only two options how that could be: he either was born here or he was born in one of the wealthier districts and had important enough parents to make a trip to the Capitol possible. Both options did not coincide with Andrew and his family living in District 12. Then there was the thing with Nicky coming all the way from District 4 to 12 for him and his brother.

Should it be necessary, Neil could just lie if Andrew was getting too close. “Fine. I start.”

Andrew inclined his head to signal his approval but made a circular motion with his finger, “Not here. Tonight on the roof.”

They returned to the gymnasium and Neil took a shot at spear throwing. He decided promptly that it was not for him, his arms were not really his strong point. To his surprise, Andrew tried as well and actually succeeded. Begrudgingly, Neil had to admire Andrew’s strength and wondered not for the first time how he had gained such weight in District 12.

“Our shadow is back,” Andrew suddenly stage-whispered into Neil’s ear, and the hairs on his neck stood up at their close proximity.

Neil glanced around and saw the girl from District 11 standing back a bit, watching them. She was the fifteen-year-old that looked twelve, maybe thirteen. Her dark eyes were wide and alternating between looking afraid and absolutely vacant. She stood tilted up on her toes with her arms slightly extended to her sides, as if ready to take wing at the slightest sound. Neil wasn’t sure if she reminded him more of a mouse or a bird. What Neil definitely knew was that he hadn’t noticed her trailing them. At all.

He looked to Andrew astonished. For Neil not to notice someone following him around was almost impossible. The girl was either very good or— He watched Andrew twirling the spear around. Since he and Andrew had to spend every waking hour together, Neil had been so preoccupied with Andrew that he had forgotten to look over his shoulder.

“Robin Cross, District 11, 5’2. Apparently she likes you.” Andrew’s tone and face were as expressionless as ever, but there was something in it that betrayed his impassive demeanor. Also how did he know all these facts again? Neil felt annoyance rise through his father’s bad temper, and he asked more harshly than he intended, “What can we do about it?”

Andrew side-eyed him briefly, then he let his spear simply fall to the floor with a loud clatter and continued his way to the next station, leaving Neil no other choice but to follow.

Now that he knew she was there, it was hard to ignore the girl. She slipped up and joined them at different stations. She was clever with plants, climbed swiftly and had good aim. She could hit the target every time with a slingshot.

“Well, would you look at that, no wonder she took a liking to you. She’s a little squirrel, hard to catch like you. Except she is smart enough to stay hidden,” Andrew said at their last station of the day.

“Fuck you,” Neil said automatically and with no heat. When had he gotten so used to this? Trading insults with Andrew or just spending the day in comfortable silence while each of them did their thing. Andrew only hummed at that, and soon they were allowed to leave for dinner and the excited chatter of their group.

Wymack, Nicky and Allison grilled them in the evening, or more like Neil since Andrew had decided he didn’t feel like talking, about every moment of the day. What they had done, who had watched them, how the other tributes had sized them up. Wymack’s only comment on Kevin’s fierce teaching methods was a low hum and a deliberating look exchanged with Renee.

When they finally escaped to bed, Andrew snatched Neil’s sleeve and dragged him to the staircase that led to the roof. Between lunch, another session with Kevin and their little shadow, Neil had already forgotten about their game. He was so tired he could fall asleep on the stairs and wouldn’t even care.

The brisk wind on the roof woke him up a little, though, and so he joined Andrew at the railing once again. Andrew took out a cigarette and this time Neil asked for one, too. Andrew considered Neil for a moment, then shrugged and retrieved another one. He lit them both and handed one to Neil.

For a while they only stood there, Andrew smoking and Neil cupping his in his hand and inhaling the smoke.

“You are wasting a perfectly fine cigarette,” Andrew said eventually.

“And you are wasting my time, let’s get this over with.” Neil was tired and sore, Kevin had some real problems. Beating up tributes probably got him off too.

Andrew blew some smoke in the night sky then turned around to look at Neil. “Only waiting for you. You wanted to begin.” Right, Neil had completely forgotten about that.

He turned the questions he had around in his mind, examined them and finally settled for something that had bothered him for awhile now, but also wasn’t too heavy for a first question.

“How do you know that I can hunt? And what my quarry looks like?”

“Those are technically two questions,” Andrew remarked.

“It counts as one.”

Andrew flicked the cigarette against the electric field and watched it bouncing off it before saying, “I saw you coming into the bakery one day. After that you would turn up every Thursday and talk the old man into giving you fresh bread for a squirrel or rabbit. He showed them to me and gave me half of it when he felt like it.” Neil supposed the old man was the owner of the bakery. “You work at the bakery?” he asked puzzled. He had never seen Andrew there, only Nicky behind the counter.

Andrew wiggled his finger at Neil. “Only one question. It is my turn now.” Neil braced himself, hoping it would be something similar to his question, something he could answer truthfully.

“Where are your parents really?”

Well, wasn’t this just great? Neil licked his lower lip and said, “Dead.” It wasn’t a complete lie, his mother was dead after all and his father… he wasn’t really a parent.

“Did you kill them?” Andrew said it so casually, like he was asking for the time, that Neil could only stare at him for a minute. It was such an unreasonable leap of logic Neil didn’t understand how he even thought to ask it. This was Andrew through so he just asked, “Did you kill yours?”

Andrew only gave a dismissive flick of his fingers. “I don’t have parents.”

The wind grew stronger between them as they just stood there, staring each other down.

“I did not kill my parents,” Neil said, and for a wild second he fantasized about telling Andrew the truth. The actual, honest and brutal truth. Someone who asked so nonchalantly about murder would probably not bat an eye if Neil started to reveal all about his heritage and past. The moment passed quickly.

Andrew simply nodded at Neil’s answer and Neil suppressed a yawn. The day had been exhausting and this conversation was even worse. He stubbed his cigarette out under his shoe and turned towards the door. “I’ll take my turn some other time.”

Andrew said nothing when Neil left, staying behind with another lit cigarette.

The following four days Neil spent thinking about what he wanted to ask Andrew. He wanted as much information as possible from a single question. And as he knew Andrew, he would simply call their game off when he thought it boring, so the number of questions he could ask were limited as well. He didn’t manage to catch Andrew alone again, and on their eleventh day of training, the Gamemakers started to call them out of lunch for their private sessions. As usual, District 12 was slated to go last.

The tributes lingered in the dining room, unsure where else to go. No one came back once they left. As the room emptied, the pressure to act civilized around each other lightened. By the time they called Robin, Andrew and Neil were left alone. They sat in silence until Neil finally threw all caution and questions he had worked out over the past few days to the wind and just asked, “What do you do in the bakery?”

“Is that your question?” Andrew inquired with a look on his face that made Neil feel as if he was stupid. He only shrugged his shoulders defensively.

“I work there.”

Neil shot him an irritated look. “Very funny. I’ve never seen you there and Nicky never mentioned it. What  _ exactly _ do you do there? What is your job?”

“Are you cheating again or are you just too stupid to count? You already asked your question.”

“Oh fuck it, do you get off on being so difficult or why can’t you just answer a simple question for once?  _ Please? _ ”

Andrew fell silent. “I hate that word.”

Confused, Neil repeated in his head what he had just said. “What? Difficult?”

Andrew shook his head and just stared straight ahead. Neil thought about it some more. “Please?”

“Don’t say it,” Andrew said, not looking at Neil at all.

Neil pressed his hands between his thighs and hummed. “Alright. Sorry.” He caught Andrew’s glance and responded with an apologetic smile. Andrew actually scowled at that and averted his eyes to look straightforward again. After a few moments of tense silence he said, “I make the bread. Sometimes cakes.”

Blinking, Neil didn’t understand at first. When he did, it was already too late because they were summoning Andrew.

Neil watched him go and tried to imagine Andrew kneading bread dough and baking cakes. He thought about Andrew’s rough hands grabbing his neck and he could actually see it. He probably lifted a bag of flour like nothing, too.

It was still strange to think of Andrew doing something so mundane like mixing flour and salt together while he had several knives hidden under his armbands and could probably kill a man while getting bread from the oven.

After about fifteen minutes, they called Neil’s name. He rubbed his hands over his thighs, set his shoulders back and walked into the gymnasium.

Instantly, he knew he was in trouble. The Gamemakers had been here too long. They had sat through twenty-three other demonstrations. Most of them had had too much wine and wanted more than anything to go home. There was nothing Neil could do but continue with Wymack’s plan. He walked up to the archery station. Bows made of wood and plastic and metal and materials Neil couldn’t even name. The arrows had feathers cut in flawless uniform lines.

He chose a bow, strung it and slung the matching quiver of arrows over his shoulder.

There was a shooting range, but it was much too limited. Standard bull’s-eyes and human silhouettes. Neil walked to the centre of the gymnasium and picked the dummy used for knife practice as a target.

Even as he pulled back on the bow Neil knew something was wrong. The string was tighter than the one he had used in 12 or on the run with his mother, which were largely self-made.

The arrow hit the dummy unimposing in his left shoulder, and Neil lost what little attention he had been commanding. For a moment, he felt humiliated; then he headed back to the bull’s-eye and shot again and again to get a feeling for the bow.

Back in the centre of the gymnasium, he took his initial position and skewered the dummy right through the heart, then in fast succession he hit the next dummy in each eye, the heart again and lastly between the eyes.

It was excellent shooting, Neil turned to the Gamemakers. A few were nodding in approval, but the majority of them were fixated on a roast pig that had just arrived at their banquet table. Tetsuji and Riko were paying attention to neither as they discussed something on a piece of paper.

Suddenly Neil was furious, that with his life on the line, they didn’t even have the decency to pay attention to him. He was being upstaged by a dead pig and piece of paper. His heart started to pound and his eyes found the throwing knives, neatly arranged for use. Without really thinking, he discarded the bow and quiver, stalked over to the knives and threw one straight at the Gamemaker’s table. There were shouts of alarm as people stumbled back. The knife stuck in the wall between Riko’s and Tetsuji Moriyama’s heads.

Everyone stared at Neil in disbelief.

“Thank you for your consideration,” Neil said and took a slight bow before walking straight towards the exit without being dismissed.

On his way to the elevator, Neil brushed past the gaping Avoxes who guarded the elevators and hit the number twelve button with his fist. The doors slid together and he zipped upwards. He actually made it back to his floor before the panic hit him in full force. He could hear the others calling for him from the sitting room, but Neil rushed down the hall into his room, bolted the door and started to pace like a caged tiger.

Now he had done it. Now he had ruined everything. If he had even stood a ghost of a chance, it had vanished when he had thrown the knife at Riko’s head. Of course he hadn’t actually aimed for their heads, the small space between them had been enough. It was just that he had been so angry. He hadn’t tried to kill one of them, if he had they would be dead now.

What would they do to him now? Arrest him? Execute him? Cut his tongue and turn him into an Avox? Not before they figured out who he really was and handed him over to his father. Maybe Andrew was right, he was really stupid.

Wymack, Renee and Nicky knocked on his door, and Neil simply ignored them until they went away. It took Neil almost an hour to calm down and stop seeing his father ripping his tongue out. He wanted to go out and run. He only realized it now, but he hadn’t been able to go running the whole time they had been in the Training Center. His legs were itching and he felt restless with the need to make his legs move.

Neil turned his head to the window and watched the sun set over the city. No one had come for him. No guards, not his father or any of his people. He was still breathing. And of course he was, they still needed a second tribute from District 12. If the Gamemakers wanted to punish him, they could do it publicly. Wait until he was in the arena and set starving wild animals on him.

Before that, though, they would give him a score so low, no one in their right mind would sponsor Neil. That was what would happen tonight.

Since the training wasn’t open to viewers, the Gamemakers announced a score for each tribute. It gave the audience a starting place for the betting that would continue throughout the Games. The number, which was between one and twelve, one being irredeemably bad and twelve unattainably high, signified the promise of the tribute. An indication of the potential a tribute showed in training. It wasn’t unusual though that because of the variables in the actual arena, high-scoring tributes went down almost immediately.

Still, the scores could help or hurt an individual tribute in terms of sponsorship. And now, with Neil’s thoughtless move, his chances of staying alive without a sponsor had decreased to almost zero.

It was Andrew who called him for dinner in the end. He only knocked once and said, “Come.” Neil decided he might as well go, the scores would be televised soon.

Andrew eyed him up when he opened the door and only said “drama queen” before walking away. Everyone else was waiting at the table, even Roland. They watched him as he sat down, but no one said a word. Eventually, they started some chit-chat and Neil could eat his soup in silence. Then, when the main course was served, Wymack spoke up, “Okay, enough with this –  just how bad did you fuck up today, Neil?”

The table fell silent. Neil squirmed under their stares, so he simply said, “I might have lost my temper.”

“Did you lecture them on the working conditions in District 8 again?” Allison asked while inspecting her fingernails that had a complicated flower pattern painted on them, matching her dress.

Neil shot her a dark look. “No. What does it matter anyway? It’s over.”

“Well, you were the one rushing to your room to cry or whatever,” Aaron said, bored, and Neil contemplated stabbing him with his fork. They dropped the subject when it became obvious that Neil wouldn’t talk about it, and Renee reminded them they would see the score soon enough. Nicky amused them with a story about Aaron and an intrusive saleswoman from their shopping trip earlier, and their dinner lost the heavy tension from before.

Neil caught himself several times hiding a smile at Nicky’s and Allison’s antics and even Aaron could be funny if he didn’t want to be.

After dinner, they all went to the sitting room to watch the scores being announced on television. First they showed a photo of the tribute, then flashed the score below it.

The Career Tributes naturally got in the eight-to-ten range. Most of the other players averaged a five. Surprisingly, Robin came up with a seven.

District 12 came up last as usual. Andrew pulled an eight. Both Wymack and Renee gave him a look and Renee asked him quietly, “Did you even try?”

Andrew said nothing; he only ate his ice-cream and did not even look in the general direction of the television.

Neil started to chew on his bottom lip as his face came up, expecting the worst. Then they were flashing the number eleven on the screen.

Nicky let out a shout and Wymack even leapt to his feet. Both slapped Neil on his back, Renee and Roland squeezed his shoulder and congratulated him. This couldn’t be true.

“There must be mistake. How… how could that happen?” Neil asked Wymack.

“I don’t know what you did kid, but I guess they liked your temper,” he answered with a proud grin.

“I am really glad we went with the fire theme,” said Roland. “It fits you perfectly, Neil.”

Neil looked over to Andrew who was watching him silently.

Only when they returned to their rooms, Andrew spoke up, “So full of surprises, Neil.”

He shook out two cigarettes and turned to the door that led to the stairs. “It’s my turn.”

Apparently Andrew was not yet bored of their little game. After a second, Neil followed him.

As always, Andrew walked straight up to the edge, propping his arms up on the railing and gaze fixed on the ground. He presented Neil a lit cigarette and they both smoked, in Neil’s case smelled, it in silence. Neil’s cigarette burned down, and he was about to go back downstairs when Andrew finally said something.

“Where were you born?”

Neil thought about a convincing lie. Thought about a reason why he could have lied about his parents and District 8. In the end he surprised himself by telling Andrew the truth. “I was born here, in the Capitol.”

Andrew didn’t look surprised. He flicked the stub of his cigarette off the railing and turned around. “You don’t look like someone from here.”

Neil huffed, “Thank you.” Then he swallowed and licked his dry lips. “You’ve been to the Capitol before. How is that possible?” It was something Neil had been wondering about ever since the day of their arrival and their conversation on the train.

Next to him, Andrew slowly traced the underside of his left arm with his right hand. “You have this annoying habit of always going straight to the throat, Neil, without ever considering what it could mean for you.”

“What?” Neil asked, puzzled.

“Forget it. You may have noticed I am not really close to Aaron.” Neil had, but he had assumed that was just how the twins were as people. And besides, he didn’t see how this had anything to do with his question. “I only met him four years ago. Didn’t even know I had a brother before that. Or a  _ family _ at that.” Something sardonic slipped in his otherwise toneless voice at that. Neil tried to understand, but failed. He had no idea where Andrew was going with this.

“The woman that birthed us was really hopelessly inadequate. She couldn’t accept responsibility for a child, yet alone two. She gave us away but grew some sort of conscience over night because she took Aaron back. Do you know how much Capitol people pay for a cute little newborn?” Neil didn’t, but it was a rhetorical question anyway. “They don’t like it when the cute little newborn grows older though. Someone always likes to take a child in, just not for long.” Andrew shrugged as if this all did not concern him. And maybe it didn’t.

“So here’s your answer, Neil. I grew up here.”

Neil didn’t know what to say. Of all things he hadn’t thought about this possibility, and he certainly had not expected that Andrew would tell him. This seemed awfully private, something only close family and friends, if at all, should know.

Andrew pushed himself off the railing. “I’ll take my turn some other time.”

He left Neil on the roof and vanished downstairs.

Neil felt unsure with Andrew’s honesty. Of course there were still a few pieces missing, how he had found Aaron and Nicky eventually for example. But those were questions Neil had to ask if he wanted to know the answer. And Andrew would probably tell him.

And suddenly Neil could see the appeal of telling the truth. Not to anyone, but specifically to someone like him because what did it matter? Andrew could tell Neil he had stolen Kengo’s favorite tie, and it wouldn’t matter because Neil would be dead a few days from now. And if Neil didn’t die, then Andrew would. Either way, every little secret shared between them wouldn’t matter anymore.

Neil looked over the illuminated Capitol stretched out before him. He didn’t trust Andrew, but if he wanted to, he could tell him everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I made Andrew into the bakers boy... He knows how to knead that dough.  
> Thanks for reading!! And if you have anything to say just leave a comment :)


	5. Presentation and Content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter than usual ahead!  
> I thought I would enter the Games already with this chapter but I was wrong. Everything got kinda out of control and I added lots of scenes.

At dawn, Neil lay in bed for a while, watching the sun come up for a beautiful morning. It was Thursday. In District 12 he would be preparing for a trip in the woods, hunting and maybe some gathering. At noon he would trade his quarry on the district’s black market and of course in the bakery. Nicky would chatter with him while his boss inspected Neil’s rabbits and squirrels and then gave Nicky the order to fetch some fresh bread for Neil from the back.

Neil turned on his back and stared at the ceiling. Now that he knew Andrew had been watching him, he expected to feel restless, maybe anxious. But he was so used to Andrew’s eyes on him by now that it made him feel nothing but familiarity. He was really getting soft in the head.

Allison’s knocking reminded Neil that there was another strenuous day ahead. Tomorrow night would be the televised interview with the tributes, and Neil guessed the whole group would have their hands full readying him and Andrew for that. He got up and took a quick shower, a little more careful about the buttons he hit, and headed down to the dining room.

Andrew and Renee were absent, but the others were sitting around the table, eating and talking. Allison waved him over and patted on the empty chair on her left. “Come on, shining light of my future, take a seat!” Her good mood was probably attributable to his high score yesterday. Allison saw a winner in her district for the very first time within reach. No matter if it was Neil or Andrew, in her eyes both of them were not completely hopeless.

Neil loaded his plate with food and humored her by sitting down. A few minutes later, Renee and Andrew arrived, obviously showered, but each sporting fresh bruises visible on their faces and on Renee’s bare arms. Neil assumed they came with their private sparring sessions he had gladly declined. Allison pursed her lips at the darkening spot on Renee’s cheekbone and ran her thumb over it. Renee only smiled and squeezed Allison’s hand quickly under the table.

Wymack waited for Andrew to finally sit down as well and cleared his throat, “So tomorrow is the interview as you know. That means we’re going to coach you today all day long for it.” It was evident Wymack was dreading the interview. Neil couldn’t hold it against him; Andrew and Neil were still no crowd-pleasers. Neil thought about the knife stuck between Riko and Tetsuji in the wall.

“We’re making a little change of things here. Allison, Renee and I will coach you separately. You can’t do the interview together so we have to focus on you individually.”

“Okay.” Neil only shrugged. He couldn’t imagine what they would teach him over a day for a simple _interview_ , like how hard could it be to sit around for a few minutes? He went with Allison first for presentation, while Wymack and Renee took Andrew for content. Nicky and Aaron tagged along with Allison.

As it turned out, there were a lot of things Neil could do wrong by sitting around for a few minutes. Allison went straight for his sitting posture – apparently he had the tendency to duck his head and avoid eye contact. Then she went on with hand gestures and the worst of all, smiling. At first they all made fun of Neil’s sorry attempts to smile, but soon Nicky wore a pained expression and Allison couldn’t stop shaking her head while frowning.

“Think about someone you like and how you would smile at them when they’re happy,” she tried. Neil couldn’t think of anyone but his mother, and they had never smiled at each other. They also had never really been happy.

By lunch, the muscles in his cheeks were twitching from overuse. “Well, that’s the best I can do,” Allison sighed.

“This is truly pathetic,” Aaron told Neil unhelpfully, and Neil realized he preferred Andrew over his twin a hundred times. Nicky had not yet given up and said cheerfully, “Just remember, Neil, you want the audience to like you.”

“I honestly don’t care what the audience thinks.”

“You don’t care now, but when you are sitting in the arena, hungry and cold, you will think back to this interview and you will think how you should have done better,” Allison said dryly. Neil doubted anyone in that situation would think about the damn interview and more about how they could burn down the whole Capitol with all its inhabitants.

“Just save the glaring for the arena and maybe think of yourself as among friends,” Nicky tried again.

“Friends,” Neil echoed hollowly.

“Yes, friends! Think about me, for example. Or Allison!” Neil looked at Nicky blankly. Nicky’s happy expression turned into a worried frown. “What?” he asked when Neil still showed no reaction.

“Are we?” Neil asked and turned the thought in his head over. “Friends I mean.”

Both Allison and Nicky groaned loudly and suddenly he was stuck between them. Allison pinched his cheek repeatedly and Nicky tousled his hair. “I can’t believe he said that to us! Out loud!” Allison cried out. “Of course we are your friends, you clueless blueberry muffin.” Neil duck out of the way before they could start all over with the touching and ruffling, and they both got the hint to leave him some room to breathe.

It felt weird, the casual touches. His mother had only ever grabbed him to pull him along or to hide his face at her side, often to beat some lesson into him. The way Allison and Nicky squeezed his shoulders or gently ruffled his hair was something that had never occurred to Neil before. When had he gotten so used to them?

For lunch they all headed to the dining room where Wymack, Renee and Andrew were already eating.

“How did it go?” Renee asked them when they were seated.

“They will hate him,” Aaron answered, ignoring Nicky’s and Allison’s angry looks.

“At least they won’t suffer through complete silence. There is nothing worse than an interview with someone who just does not talk.” Wymack looked exhausted.

“Well, but isn’t that the reason the people love Andrew so much? His stoic silence but devoted actions?” Renee said with an impish smile, and Neil snorted the juice he was drinking out of his nose.

“For fuck’s sake, Neil!” Wymack, who was sitting across from Neil, saved his meal at last second but still got a little bit on his shirt.

“Devoted actions?” Neil echoed in disbelief.

“Yes, _devoted actions_ , you damn shrimp,” Wymack wiped over his shirt with a napkin. “Don’t give me that look, you are one of his devoted actions after all.”

The words in Neil’s mouth died and he closed his mouth. They were fabricating a personality for Andrew they could sell. Andrew volunteering for Aaron had laid the foundation, and after the opening ceremonies they had made Neil Andrew’s little pet to look after. Neil had been wrong about the partners act, they had never been partners. He was someone for Andrew to protect, or at least to make it look like that, so people would buy his silent protector charade.

The revelation tasted bitter. Not only did it make Neil look weak, it would also give Andrew pity points, once Neil died in the arena. Andrew had his advantage either way.

He didn’t finish his meal and afterwards followed Renee and Wmyack into the sitting room silently. Renee directed him to the couch and sat down beside him, while Wymack just frowned at him for a while.

“What?” Neil finally snapped.

“I’m trying to figure out what to do with you,” he said. “How we’re going to present you. Are you going to be charming? Aloof? Fierce? So far you are shining like a little, polished star. The people like your face. They like your bond with Andrew. Roland made you unforgettable and you’ve got the top training score. Everyone is intrigued, but no one knows who you are.” And it better stay that way, Neil thought. “The impression you make tomorrow will decide exactly what we can get you in terms of sponsors.” Neil had a rough idea what Wymack was talking about, if he appealed to the crowd, either by being humorous or brutal or eccentric, he would gain their favor.

“And what is Andrew’s approach? Using me to push his protector agenda?” he asked hotly.

“You are going to use each other,” Renee said gently. “You might think it makes you look weak to be considered under Andrew’s protection. And in terms of the other tributes this might be true, but do you know what the people will see? They will see an unmovable Andrew who will only make an effort when it comes to his brother, his twin, his own flesh and blood, and _you_.” She pointed her finger at Neil. “That will make you desirable, Neil.”

Desirable. They had really put a lot of thought into their presentation, Neil realized. It was absolutely crazy, to think people could be fooled into believing Andrew actually cared for him. As far as Neil was concerned, Andrew did not even care for Aaron, and he still couldn’t understand why Andrew had volunteered for him in the first place. He didn’t say anything, though; let Renee and Wymack think what they wanted to if it helped them sleep better at night. In the arena it wouldn’t matter anyway when everyone was on their own and countless variables would frequently change the outcome.

“Okay, let’s try a few things out,” Wymack said, and Renee took the role of the interviewer and Neil tried to answer her questions. It went similar to Allison’s and Nicky’s attempts to make him smile, only that he got angrier and angrier with every new question. Why was he hopping around like some trained dog trying to please people he couldn’t care less about? Who wanted his death just because? Why was it that he could never have anything because someone tried to kill him, and he had to relinquish his life only for another day to survive?

The longer the interview went on, the more his anger rose to the surface, until Neil was literally spitting out answers.

“All right, enough,” Wymack said. “We’ve got to find another angle. I don’t know why I ever thought you’d be the quiet kind. And you are really good at evading questions, you know that?” Of course Neil knew, he was alive because of it. Wymack shook his head. “Renee asked you fifty questions and we still have no sense of your life, your family, what you care about. They want to know you, Neil.”

“Is it too late for me to be the silent, brooding guy?”

Wymack sighed. “I don’t know, just try the quiet type. Let Roland make you look pretty, bat some eyelashes, no wait don’t do that. It fits you even less than humble or playing cocky.”

At the end, Neil was yet again no one. Wymack and Renee had tried their best, but he had an obvious attitude problem. And for someone who had been on the run half of his life and had lived through countless aliases, he wasn’t a convincing actor when his life didn’t depend on it. Funnily enough, it somehow did, but not in the way Neil was used to. Without his mother to keep him in check, Neil’s actual personality shimmered through more often. It somehow felt good, too. He was tired of hiding and ducking, so why shouldn’t he tell the people how he truly felt?

That night, Neil ate on the rooftop with Andrew. He was the only other person Neil could tolerate right now, and in his room he had felt restricted and restless. They sat in silence, trading food to and fro. Andrew ate Neil’s vegetables and his dessert; Neil ate Andrew’s fruits and soup. After a while Neil said, “Ask me something.”

It didn’t look like Andrew would follow Neil’s invitation any time soon, so Neil settled on his back to look at the sky.

“Why did you bring Nicky along?” Andrew asked eventually, surprising Neil with the question. It was easy enough to answer, nothing he had to think about twice. “Because he obviously wanted to, and I wanted to give him the chance to say goodbye to you.”

Somewhere behind him, Andrew clicked his tongue. “So what, you give every random person a spot as your company out of the goodness of your heart while not gaining anything from it?”

“I had nothing to lose either,” Neil simply replied. “Those were two questions by the way, are you trying to cheat?”

“It counts as one.”

Neil couldn’t help the tiny smile spreading across his lips at that answer.

“You are annoying,” Andrew suddenly said. “Now ask your question.”

Neil blinked at the impatient tone, very much different from Andrew’s usual emotionless voice. He rolled onto his belly, arms folded under his chin, and peered up at Andrew who was sitting cross-legged in front of him. “Why did you volunteer for Aaron?”

Andrew lit a cigarette and took a slow drag before answering. “I promised to protect him.”

Neil blinked, so the protector act wasn’t just an act. At least not if Aaron was concerned. “Why?”

Andrew narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “Learn to use your ears, Neil. I already told you.” He let the ash of his cigarette trickle on the floor, just in front of Neil’s face. Neil reached out and took the cigarette from Andrew’s loose grip. He examined it and then stuck it between his lips to take a shallow drag. “I mean why did you promise him something like that. You can’t even stand looking him in the eyes or heaven forbid, talking to him. Why bother?” He gave Andrew his cigarette back and sat up to face him. Andrew stared at the cigarette in his hand before putting it tentatively back in his mouth.

“He asked me to and we made a deal. I intend to hold up my end of the deal, if he doesn’t like it, it’s not my problem.”

There was an obvious history there, but Neil could tell Andrew wouldn’t talk about it. He also didn’t feel like pressing, since Andrew had already given him more honesty than Neil even deserved. They sat in comfortable silence, each dwelling on their own thoughts before heading back down together to get some sleep before the big day tomorrow.

The day afterwards, they would already be fighting in the arena.

In the morning, it was Roland who took over for Allison, Wymack and Renee. He gave Neil instructions how to wash up before vanishing to where Andrew was supposed to be prepared.

Since Roland had told him not to dry his hair, Neil waited for him in a simple black shirt and boxer shorts, dripping water all over the carpet. Roland returned and told Neil to sit down in a chair in front of a veiled mirror. He started to comb through Neil’s wet locks and made low, considering noises. “I wish you would allow me to give you your natural hair color back. It suits you perfectly and the costume I thought for you.” When Neil only shook his head, Roland sighed. “Fine, I’ll start with dying your hair then. I can see a few red strands, don’t worry they are not too obvious beneath all that black.”

While Roland started to work, Neil let his eyes fall shut. Roland’s fingers massaging his scalp felt oddly soothing, and he only startled out of it when the stylist guided his head backwards to a sink and washed the remaining dye out of his hair. He dried it, then thrust a lotion into Neil’s hand.

“I want you to put this on your hands, throat and face. Not too much, here,” he put a small portion into Neil’s hand, “use this. Not more.” Neil did as he was told, and Roland vanished but returned shortly after with something that Neil suspected would be his costume.

Examining his hands, Neil could see his skin shimmer in what looked like blue and golden dust. Roland put the costume over the back of a couch and came back to Neil to work on his face.

Neil hated the feeling of make-up and powder on his skin; he felt sticky and somewhat constrained. When Roland pulled out a black pencil and intended to use it on Neil’s eyes, he jerked back. Roland laughed at that. “Don’t worry, Neil. I won’t stab you in the eye. If you keep still,” he added with a wink that did nothing but set Neil even more on edge. He endured it, though, and soon Roland was done.

“I love working on your face, you have a perfect symmetry. People from here go under the knife to have a face like yours. Come on now.” He motioned for Neil to stand in the middle of the room and retrieved his costume. He pulled it out from the suit bag and presented it like a masterpiece.

It was a simple black suit, but adorned with a bluish flame pattern and a few orange, yellow and red highlights. The blue dominated though, it was the color of his father’s eyes. Neil’s own eyes.

With Roland’s help he put on the costume and let him make some last fixes before he stepped back and nodded approvingly. “Wymack and Renee told me about your little personality problem.” He laughed at Neil’s eye-roll. “Don’t worry, I know exactly what your personality is, Neil.” He was smoothing down the suit’s front when a sudden knock interrupted them.

Nicky stuck his head through the door. “Hey, are you guys done? I have something for Neil and—oh. Oh okay. Wow, shit, wow.” He came inside and stared at Neil while muttering more unintelligible things. “Are you sure you’re not swinging, Neil? Not at all? Because I am swinging like mad right now.”

Neil frowned. “Don’t you have Erik?”

“Duh, but you’re on _the list_ , Neil. Number three, remember?”

“What?”

“List of celebrities I’m allowed to bang. Erik has his own. We both hope for a threesome with Kevin by the way. Could you maybe ask him? Coach said he likes to beat your ass. Not sexually of course.”

Neil said nothing to that, only stared at Nicky until he shrugged and turned towards Roland. “I want to give Neil something. Is that okay?”

“Sure, I’m done here. I’ll be looking after Andrew now, so no hurry,” Roland said and left the room.

Neil stood awkwardly around while Nicky set his bag down and started to rummage around in it. “When I was shopping the other day I came across this small shop. They had really awesome stuff, so I thought about getting something for you and Andrew since you can’t leave the Training Center— ah here!” He fished out a small box and presented it to Neil. “Open it!”

Hesitantly, Neil accepted it and lifted the lid. Inside was a coin sized fox paw pin, painted in an obnoxious orange. Neil blinked, confused.

“Originally, I had a cat paw, but when I told Andrew he said I should get a rabbit. I thought it was a good idea, you know for good luck and all that, but how the fuck should I know what a rabbit paw looks like? I came back with this and Andrew told me I was stupid. So I wanted to go back again, but he said it fits you well enough. What do you say?”

Neil couldn’t say anything. He looked at the pin and then back to Nicky, whose face softened. “You have that look again, Neil. The Why-Would-You-Do-Something-Nice-For-Me look. Come on let’s fasten it.” Nicky took the pin out of the box and pinned it on Neil’s left-sided lapel. “Hm, the orange is maybe a little much. We’ll let Roland decide.” Nicky grinned and patted Neil’s shoulders. “What do you say?”

Neil looked down and traced the shape of the fox paw with his index finger. “I’ve never received a present before,” he said bewildered, and suddenly he was pressed to Nicky’s chest who was embracing him with both of his arms while crying out, “Damn it, Neil!”

“Uh, what are you doing, Nicky?” Neil asked and tried to wiggle out of the taller man’s grip.

“I am hugging you,” Nicky said and Neil rolled his eyes. “Yeah, could we not do that?”

With a sigh, Nicky let go. “You’re really something else, Neil Josten. I thought some more about your interview predicament by the way.”

Neil tensed up, he was really not ready to be dragged in the spotlight and interrogated by the Capitol’s most irritating TV host. “Suppose, when you answer the questions, you think you’re addressing the person you could tell everything to. Do you have someone like that?” asked Nicky.

Neil could only think of his mother, but all he could see was her burned bones which he had buried in a shallow grave. And his mother already knew him inside out, so it didn’t make much sense to Neil to imagine her asking him questions. He sighed, “It’s fine, Nicky. Let’s just get this over with. Tomorrow it won’t matter anymore.”

Neil instantly knew he had said something wrong, because Nicky’s face fell and he looked suddenly so much older. It was easy to forget that Nicky had several years on Neil and the twins, behind his cheery façade. He didn’t say anything, though, and only pulled out two apples from his bag, one he offered to Neil the other one he kept for himself.

Too soon it was time to go. The interviews took place in a television studio nearby. Once Neil left the Training Center, it would be only minutes until he was in front of the crowd, the cameras, all of Panem.

He and Nicky met up with the rest of their group at the elevator. Roland had been hard at work with both of them. Andrew wore the same striking black suit as Neil, only his flame accents were mostly orange, yellow and red with a few blue highlights. And his skin was free of any glimmer. His eyes had been left alone as well.

“Why?” Neil only asked Roland. Roland understood him nonetheless and grinned unapologetically. “Andrew is a different kind of handsome. Some things that fit one person do not fit another.”

Neil glared at him, but then he saw the fox paw pin on Andrew’s lapel and couldn’t quite hide his gaping. It was almost invisible on the black cloth of the suit since it was completely black as well. He looked down to his own, glaring orange one, and then to Nicky. “Roland loved the idea,” Nicky defended himself.

Wymack shooed them inside the elevator then and down to a car. Everyone was all fancied up for the occasion, even Allison had surpassed her usual attire with something even more extravagant.

“We’ll be sitting right in front of the stage with the other escorts, stylists and plus ones,” Allison said. “You’ll be able to look right at us, so try not to glare.”

Andrew most likely didn’t care and simply stared out of the window, and Neil didn’t want to care but still felt nervous. He had spent the last two weeks in public view, his father had to be blind, deaf and dead to not have seen him. One of his people must have caught up on him at least, they were not stupid after all. Lola had always said the older Neil became the more he resembled his father’s looks.

Backstage, the tributes were all lined up to take the stage. One after another would be called on stage while the others watched from the backstage area. Nicky, Aaron, Roland and Allison had taken seats in the crowd while Renee and Wymack were allowed to stay behind with Neil and Andrew. Neil would be the last to go, and how he wished he could be first and get the whole thing out of the way.

“Don’t ruin this by looking like sour morons!” a voice hissed from behind Neil, and he almost took a swing at whoever had sneaked up on him. Kevin Day was dressed in all black and glowered at Andrew and Neil as if they had insulted him personally.

“What are you doing here?” Neil asked, a little taken aback. He looked for Wymack or Renee who could maybe remove Kevin from his personal space, but they were both engaged in a conversation with Matt and Dan and some other mentor Neil didn’t know.

“I’m here to make sure you don’t fuck this up. You might have achieved a passable score, but sponsors are just as important during the Games. Keep your attitude in check tonight.” _Passable_. How did Kevin Day live with himself when he had to listen to his own bullshit twenty-four hours a day?

“What do you fucking _care_?” Neil hissed back, drawing attention to Kevin and himself. The other tributes recognized Kevin and then glared at Neil. Great, even more unwanted attention from people who already wanted him dead.

Kevin shook his head. “Try to stick together, okay?” He looked at Andrew and then Neil. “Your chances are better as a team.”

Neil had no time to wonder about that strange and greatly unexpected advice, when Kevin suddenly stiffened and actual fear crossed his eyes.

“Kevin, what a surprise.” Behind Kevin, Riko Moriyama appeared with a sly smile on his lips. He was all in black like Kevin, and it didn’t escape Neil how Kevin shrunk at the other’s presence. Kevin had a several inches on Riko, and yet Riko had no problem staring him down.

“Are you bothering the new tributes again?” His eyes slid over to Andrew and Neil. Neil didn’t know what expression Andrew was wearing or what he was doing, but Riko’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. When he took in Neil, something dark settled in his eyes. “Ah, it’s you. You really surprised us there with your little stunt. Did your parents teach you that?”

It was nothing, an offhanded comment by someone who apparently liked it when others cowered before him. And yet, Neil couldn’t help it when his heartbeat quickened and his hands felt numb and damp from cold sweat.

He knew. Riko knew. He was only playing with Neil. He knew it, he knew everything. Neil would go out there and his father would be waiting for him. He shouldn’t have thrown the knife. He should have stayed out of the spotlight.

Fingers ghosted briefly over his back then Andrew said, “Don’t you have to be somewhere else?”

Riko’s eyes snapped to Andrew who stared back unimpressed at Riko’s glare. “I remember you as well, Andrew Minyard.”

“Okay,” Andrew said and turned his head away as if Riko wasn’t there anymore. For a split of a second, Neil was sure Riko would hit Andrew. He could see it in Riko’s eyes, and he knew how someone looked like when they were about to throw a punch. He didn’t do it, though. Instead a tall woman appeared and whispered something into Riko’s ear. He nodded and then turned to follow the woman, but not without turning one last time to Andrew and Neil. “Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be in your favor tomorrow.”

He left and Kevin, who Neil had completely forgotten about, made a quiet noise that sounded like it came from a wounded animal. “What have you done, what have you done?” he muttered then glared at Neil. “He is a Gamemaker. He can make your life hell in the arena. Or end it.”

“An asshole is what he is,” Neil replied coolly. Angry at how easy Riko had rattled him, Neil clenched his fists and started to chew on his bottom lip.

“What did you do now?” Wymack asked when he returned to them and noticed the obvious tension between Kevin and Neil.

“I didn’t do anything!” Neil protested instantly. Wymack only shook his head. “Whatever it is, keep the glaring to a minimum now, they will start any second. Kevin, you can come with us.”

And like that Renee, Wymack and Kevin went to the lounge next door where they could watch the interview on television while every tribute took their turn.

Kathy Ferdinand, the woman who had hosted the interviews for more than twenty years, bounced on the stage. It was a little scary, because her appearance had been virtually unchanged during all that time. Same face under a coating of make-up and same hairstyle that always sat perfectly, almost like a wig. Maybe it was one, it wouldn’t surprise Neil if Kathy actually fell apart beneath all these layers of beauty treatment. She wore a powdery blue dress that matched the color of her lips and eyelids. Her smile was freakish, too much teeth that were unnaturally white and looked somehow artificial. She joked around a little with the audience but then got straight down to business.

One of the girls from District 1, looking provocative in a see-through gold gown, stepped up to the center of the stage to join Kathy for her interview. It was obvious her mentor didn’t have any trouble coming up with an angle for her. Flowing blonde hair, emerald green eyes, her body tall and lush… she was sexy all the way. And she sold herself like that.

Each interview only lasted three minutes. Then a buzzer went off and the next tribute was up.

Kathy was annoying. She liked to pry, to ask uncomfortable, intrusive questions. She knew what the audience wanted and that was every last bit of information.

The districts slowly slipped by, 2, 3, 4. Everyone seemed to be playing up some angle. Gorilla from District 2, as Neil had decided to call him, was a ruthless killing machine. A girl from District 5 was sly and elusive. 8, 9, 10. The boy from 10 was arrogant. He especially liked to deliver side blows against the shorter tributes, and Neil guessed it was supposed to be against him and Andrew. If Neil remembered correctly his name was John or Jack, and he was somewhat in love with Kevin. He could gladly take him – Neil was still not sure why Kevin was so invested in his and Andrew’s performance tonight – during the training and starting tomorrow in the Games.

11\. Robin was dressed in a gossamer gown and walked over to Kathy, light-footed. Her voice was small, even with the microphone it was hard to understand her. She looked like a deer caught in the spotlight.

Kathy complimented her on her seven and suddenly there was something else besides fear in her eyes. When Kathy asked her what her greatest strength in the arena would be, Robin said a little louder, “I’m very hard to catch. And if they can’t catch me, they can’t kill me.”

The other tribute from District 11, a boy named Amal, was all easy-going confidence. He joked with Kathy and charmed the audience with his likeable nature. Kathy loved him and so did the people.

And then they were calling Andrew Minyard. Andrew went out and at least shook Kathy’s hand. But that was all the responsiveness she would get. And she really tried everything. She congratulated him on his score, talked about Roland’s phenomenal costume for their opening ceremonies and complimented him on the suit. She used Aaron and Nicky and then Neil. Asked if Neil was family, a friend, his boyfriend. Andrew sat in silence, and only when she asked him with a strained smile why he had volunteered for his brother, he looked straight in the crowd, to Aaron and said, “Because I promised him.” The audience almost lost their mind at that.

The buzzer went off, and Andrew left the stage on the other side where he would meet up with Wymack and Renee.

A man with a headset signaled Neil ten seconds to go, and after that he made his way to the center of the stage where he sat down in the armchair opposite from Kathy. She smiled her freakish white smile, and Neil’s heart started to beat faster.

“So, Neil. I bet I wasn’t the only one who was surprised at your score. Eleven points! E-le-ven! Give us a hint, what happened there?”

Neil glanced at the Gamemakers on a balcony and his eyes met Riko’s. He smiled a snake’s smile and Neil bit his lip. “All I can say is, that it was definitely a first.”

The cameras were right on the Gamemakers, a few were chuckling and nodding, Tetsuji’s face was unreadable and Riko’s smile was as fake as Kathy’s hair.

“You’re killing us,” said Kathy as if in actual pain. “Details. Details.”

Neil addressed the balcony. “I am not supposed to talk about it, right?” He gave Riko a challenging look in a whiff of madness. What the hell was he doing?

Riko’s smile grew, but Neil could see the murder behind it. He would be lucky if he survived the first day in the arena.

“It’s our little secret,” Riko said into the cameras and gave Neil a wink that made his skin crawl with disgust. Who was this man? Neil thought about the pure fear in Kevin’s eyes and the way Riko’s eyes had followed Kevin during their training sessions.

“What a shame, but alright! Let’s get to the juicy part then. Neil, what all of Panem currently is wondering about, what is your relationship to your fellow tribute Andrew? He is a little bit uncommunicative,” amused chuckles from the audience, “but you two have been inseparable all this time. What is going on there?” She actually leaned towards him, she was curious. The audience seemed to be shifting closer as well, they wanted to hear this. They really thought there was some deeper meaning behind their little partners act. They wanted there to be more.

Neil felt the anger seeping through his veins, poisoning his blood. He could feel his eyes go cold and an ugly smiled spread over his lips. It was his father’s smile when he was about to hurt someone.

“Why, Kathy, what do you think there is?” he asked, desperately trying to will the smile off his face without clawing it off with his bare hands. He couldn’t stop it.

Kathy looked a little puzzled at his strange act, but she was a host first and foremost and no one could see her hesitation when she said, “Are you friends? Family? Is he your boyfriend?” The audience cooed at that, these stupid people.

Neil tilted his head. “Well, what if he is? What if he is all of it? Would it make it more amusing when he has to strangle me to death or I have to bash his skull in because my will to live is stronger than my love for him?”

The studio went dead silent and Kathy’s smile flickered for a second. Neil was not done, though. “I bet it must be quite heartbreaking to watch the star-crossed lovers try to kill each other or even better, watch how they can’t save each other. Imagine him as my brother, someone I grew up with, and then one of us has to die so the other can live. I bet a few of you would cry about how _unfair_ that is.” He was looking straight at the audience now. His eyes found Allison who was shaking her head slowly and making small abort gestures. Nicky was actually horrified and even Aaron looked shocked. He had probably overdone it.

There was only one thing he could do now and that was lie through his teeth and perform some sort of damage control before he outright insulted the Capitol and ended up as an Avox at his father’s house. This thought made his awful smile vanish after all.

“I’m sorry, Kathy,” he started, eyes widened in dismay. He was really good at playing the frightened boy. “Andrew is… he means a lot to me. He has always protected me, and without him I wouldn’t be here tonight. With all of you.” Why did the fucking buzzer not go off? The lie sat heavy in his throat, and he felt his cheeks burning up at the nonsense he was babbling. This was a total nightmare.

Kathy reached out to pat his hand, and Neil stopped himself in the very last moment from pulling away. “We understand, Neil.” The crowd murmured in agreement. “Well, best of luck to you, Neil Josten. Our time is sadly up.” The buzzer sounded and Neil was released.

The audience roared behind him, the applause was deafening. They had actually bought his lie.

He stumbled backstage where Wymack, Renee, Kevin and Andrew were already waiting for him. It was Kevin who grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him like a doll. “Are you insane? Why did you do that? They will kill you, don’t you understand?” Neil’s teeth rattled but he was too numb to push Kevin away. He had lost his mind at the most inconvenient of times.

“Calm the fuck down, Kevin.” It was Wymack who separated them. “I—,” Neil started but Wymack cut in instantly. “I don’t want to hear _anything_ from you until we’re back, do you understand?” Neil only nodded.

Renee picked up Nicky, Roland, Aaron and Allison and they met outside. The drive back to the Training Center was spent in absolute silence, even Nicky alternated between chewing on his nails and picking at them without saying a word.

Back in the suite everyone found their way in the sitting room, and the heavy silence continued until Allison finally said, “At least he is unforgettable now.”

Kevin huffed. “And what good will it do him if they just drown him tomorrow or let him run into a trap?”

“What the fuck are _you_ even doing here?” Aaron asked and eyed Kevin suspiciously. Kevin crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin up. “They can use all the advice I can give them until tomorrow.”

Wymack sighed and pressed the heels of his hands in his eyes. “Okay, let’s see. Neil gave the Capitol a big ‘fuck you’ on television but somehow saved his ass by playing the blushing choir boy rather convincingly. The people are probably going to love him for it; he gave them something to speculate because he neither denied nor confirmed any of their assumptions. But he was fiercely protective of Andrew so there is enough to work with. He is the darling of the public now, the Gamemakers won’t kill him too soon in the Game.”

To hear all of this felt strange. It was as if it didn’t involve Neil and he was just a spectator.

“It would have been better if you had just shut your mouth,” Kevin said and suddenly Neil snapped. He pushed Kevin against the next wall, arm pressed over his chest and fingers hooked in his collar to pull him down on eye level. “If you say another fucking word I will shove my arm so far down your throat I can tickle your liver. I don’t care what you think, I don’t care about these stupid fucking Games. I have survived worse, and should I die tomorrow I will thank the fucking universe it was by the hand of a stupid kid that will maybe live a few more hours thanks to it.”

“Alright, Neil. Let’s go and wash this make-up off your face and then eat something, what do you say?” Roland actually managed to lead Neil away from Kevin and to his room. He helped Neil remove most of the make-up and left afterwards so Neil could shower in peace.

When Neil returned to the sitting room, everyone had changed out into something more comfortable except for Allison and Kevin. Kevin was still lurking around for whatever reason, but he was well on the way to being drunk. He was sitting in a corner with a bottle of vodka and glowering at Andrew who was talking to Renee.

They ate their dinner casually in the sitting room, and no one talked about Neil’s meltdown on television anymore, until Wymack turned on the television and forced them to watch the replay.

Neil noticed the angry look Aaron gave Andrew after his interview. And unsurprisingly, it was even worse watching his own interview than sitting right in the middle of it. The quick exchange with Riko seemed normal enough, but next to him Kevin chugged half of the bottle down. The moment his eyes turned cold and that creepy smile appeared was nauseating. Even worse was it when he visibly came back from wherever he had been and told Kathy how much Andrew meant to him with a humiliating blush on his cheeks.

“This is disgusting,” Aaron muttered.

“Shut the fuck up,” Allison said.

Andrew was silent, hadn’t said anything since their encounter with Riko before the interview. Neil didn’t know why he cared, but Andrew’s silence got to him.

When the screen went dark, a hush fell on the room. Tomorrow at dawn they would be roused and prepared for the arena. The actual Games didn’t start until ten because so many of the Capitol residents rose late. But Andrew and Neil had to make an early start. There was no telling how far they would travel for the arena that had been prepared for this year’s Games.

Wymack, Allison, Aaron and Nicky would not be going with them. Wymack and Allison would leave soon to be at the Games Headquarters, hopefully signing up their sponsors, working out a strategy on how and when to deliver the gifts to them. Nicky and Aaron would accompany them to watch the Games from there. Neil had no idea what Kevin would do, but he most likely follow them as well. Renee and Roland would travel with Andrew and Neil to the very spot from which they would be launched into the arena.

Final goodbyes had to be said now.

Allison and Nicky both grabbed Neil and embraced him into a fierce hug. Neil tolerated it for a few seconds before freeing himself again. Allison also said something to Andrew that Neil couldn’t understand, but all Andrew did was shove her out of his way.

Renee squeezed Neil’s arm. She would be going with Andrew tomorrow, so they wouldn’t see each other probably ever again. “You were wonderful tonight,” she told him and grinned at his surprised look.

Wymack ruffled through Neil’s hair and it didn’t make Neil flinch to his own surprise. “You’ve been nothing but trouble kid. You’ve done well.” He grinned.

Aaron said nothing. He only looked at Neil, then at his brother. He crossed his arms and turned his head away.

Kevin was drunk. He still managed to plant himself in front of Neil and Andrew like he had done at their trainings sessions so many times before and looked down to them. “When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. You’re neither of you up to the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water. Got it?” He examined them both sternly, then his shoulders sagged and he took another swig from the bottle. “You’re together. You can manage.”

They weren’t. It was all just show.

When Neil headed to his room, Andrew was still talking to Wymack about something. Neil was glad, whatever strange words of parting they would exchange could wait until tomorrow.

He brushed his teeth and lingered a little longer in the bathroom, combing through his hair and taking everything in. Maybe this would be the last bathroom he’d ever see in his life. A sentimental thought, he had often thought he would die, one time even on a bathroom floor. He traced the scars under his shirt with his hand. He had survived worse.

Back in the room, Neil pulled on a big, soft t-shirt and climbed into bed. It took him about five seconds to realize he would never fall asleep. And he needed sleep desperately, because in the arena, every moment he gave in to fatigue would be an invitation to death.

It was no good. Two hours passed, then three and Neil’s eyelids refused to get heavy. He couldn’t stop trying to imagine exactly what terrain he would be thrown into. Desert? Swamp? A frigid wasteland? Hopefully some trees, which may afford him some means of concealment and food and shelter. His head started to spin with all kinds of cruelties the Gamemakers could have installed.

The more anxious he was to find sleep, the more it eluded him. Finally, he was too restless to even stay in bed. He paced the floor, heart beating too fast, breathing too short. The room felt like a prison cell. He needed to get air, so he ran down the hall to the door to the roof. It was not only unlocked but ajar.

The roof was not lit at night, but as soon as Neil’s bare feet reach its tiled surface he saw the glimmer of a lit cigarette.

There was quite a commotion going on down in the streets, music and singing and car horns, none of which Neil could have heard through the thick glass window panels in his room.

“You should be getting some sleep,” Neil said. Andrew didn’t react, but also didn’t move away when Neil joined him at the railing.

For a while, Neil savored the fresh air around him and the smell of Andrew’s cigarette that surrounded them. He felt Andrew stir sometimes next to him and the silent, living body so close made Neil calmer, quieter.

“I have a question,” said Andrew a little later. He was now turned towards Neil and Neil mirrored him. They looked at each other while beneath them the Capitol’s people celebrated the start of the Hunger Games. Andrew reached out with his hand, slowly, and tugged at a stray curl from Neil’s hair. “Why the dyeing?”

Neil’s breath quickened. Andrew had to feel it, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe it was the time, the darkness, or just the fact that he was as good as dead that made Neil say, “My mom and I— We were on the run. Before she died. Technically I am still running.”

“Who are you running from?”

Neil swallowed. He licked his lips before chewing on his bottom one out of habit. “Stop it,” Andrew growled. “It’s distracting.” Neil stopped immediately but blinked a little confused. “Huh?”

“Answer the question or don’t. Just stop being annoying.” Neil huffed and suddenly he didn’t care. He simply didn’t care anymore. His father would never get to him. Neil would die, but he would not die by his father’s hand.

“Well, funny thing. Remember when I told you my parents were dead, and you asked if I killed them? I said I didn’t. And I didn’t. My father killed my mom, and he is pretty much still alive. I lied.”

Andrew clicked his tongue. “I know you lied. That’s why I thought the fox would fit you so well. Did you know that in stories the fox is always a cunning little liar? Reminds me of someone.”

“I didn’t lie just now.”

“No you didn’t. You are also even stupider than I initially thought. Your father? I guess you are running from him and with you being born here, he is probably someone important in the Capitol. So what do you do, you tell the Capitol on television what a disgusting lot it is, for what? So your father will definitely find you?”

Neil crossed his arm and glared at Andrew. “Who cares? I will die one way or another, why not tell those fucking bastards how abhorrent they really are for supporting this? You know they _want_ us to have a relationship. They _want_ that I mean something to you, so they can cry a little when I die. Or when you die. It’s just a show for them! A movie to watch! We’re not real people, we’re—” Neil stopped. His mouth felt dry and the next words leaving his mouth he said more to himself than to Andrew. “We’re nothing. I’ve been nothing all my life and I’ll always be nothing. So I can at least die as someone. And if it’s only as the boy who scored eleven points and told the Capitol to shove their disgusting hypocrisy up their asses.”

Next to him, a lighter flared up and illuminated Andrew’s face for a second. He blew the cigarette smoke right in Neil’s face and said, “What about winning?”

“What about it?” Neil asked.

“You know, Neil, for someone who is nothing and always will be nothing, you cling desperately to life. Why did you not give up while you were running? Or when your mother died? Why did you come to the Capitol if you were so sure you would die? Sounds a lot more comfortable to me to get shot by a Peacekeeper than to risk your father finding you or getting impaled for someone’s entertainment.”

Neil pressed his hand around the cold metal of the railing when he said, “Surviving is all I know.”

“Then survive.”

Silence settled between them and Neil closed his eyes. He could smell the night air, Andrew’s cigarette and Andrew himself. He had used the minty foam in the shower, the one Neil also liked.

“How did you find Aaron and Nicky?” he asked then.

“Who says that _I_ was the one finding _them_?” Andrew asked back. At Neil’s silence he sighed. “I had this mentor here who would try to make me more likable for the people’s sake. He once took me to a sports event in District 4 and there he confused Aaron for me. He gave Aaron’s mother his number because he thought I should meet my twin brother. I didn’t want to. A few years later and I found myself in District 12, and guess who got thrown out of 4 for being a stupid junkie? A nice family reunion, you could tell Tilda was delighted to have her long lost son back.” Andrew took a drag from his cigarette. “After Tilda’s death they informed her brother, Nicky’s father, and he wanted to take us in. Luther is a really good man; he always wants to calm the waves so everyone can get along.” The cutting sarcasm in Andrew’s voice startled Neil. But the second it appeared it was already gone in the next. “Nicky thought it was a bad idea, so the idiot packed up and moved to us.”

Neil suddenly had a lot of questions. Why had Andrew not wanted to meet Aaron? Why had Nicky thought it was a bad idea for Andrew and Aaron to leave a shithole like District 12 for one of the richest districts? And how had Andrew ended up in District 12 in the first place?

It wasn’t his turn, though, so he said nothing. His eyes felt heavier with every passing minute now, and he found himself relaxing, lulled in by familiar smells.

“What is your real name?”

The soft sleepiness was abruptly gone and Neil was on high alert. Of course Andrew would catch up on the notion that Neil wasn’t his actual name. This particular truth however was nothing Neil wanted to share. Probably ever. He hated his name with a ferocity.

“I’m named after my father,” he said eventually. “I don’t like it. If you need a name, call me Abram.” He had never told anyone about this. But he also had never told anyone anything about himself. Andrew was the first and also the last one he would tell anything ever again.

“Should I believe that?”

“It’s my middle name; it’s the name my mother used when it was just the two of us.” It was the name he had gone by on his trips to District 1, when he had trained with Riko and Kevin. No one else had been allowed to know who Neil actually was.

“Well, Abram.” A strange feeling surged through Neil at hearing his name used by anyone other than his mother. “I am tired. See you tomorrow.” Andrew stubbed the cigarette out but didn’t move away quite yet. Instead he took a step towards Neil and cupped the side of Neil’s neck in his right hand.

“You’re a fox now. So stop with the rabbit running and choose your fights wisely.” He pressed down a little before letting go.

Neil followed him downstairs a few minutes later and actually fell asleep, once again lulled into it by the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his shirt and the lingering touch on his throat.

In a few hours he’d be all on his own again. Just like after his mother’s death. When had he stopped thinking he was on his own anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how Kevin is suddenly just there. Being supportive of Neil and Andrew. (Why would Kevin, a man who values team work and fair play, gravitate towards the two tributes that apparently stick together for the Games, I ask you.)  
> The interview with Neil was never planned that way and I don't know what happened?? The boy is getting absolutely wild in his last few moments alive lmao


	6. 60 Seconds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to thank you guys for your comments and kudos so much! The story is already fun to write but it gives me like ten times more motivation to know people read this... and they like it?? What a concept!  
> This chapter follows Neil doing pretty much all the stuff Katniss has done in the books.  
> Also I reread The Foxhole Court just to find out if Gorilla has actually a name (he has). Leverett is the backliner that was onto Neil in his first match against the Jackals. You know the one that called Neil a "fucking whore" lmfao

Neil didn’t see Andrew in the morning. Roland came to him before dawn, gave him a simple shift to wear and guided him to the roof. His final dressing and preparations would be done in the catacombs under the arena itself.

A hovercraft appeared out of thin air and a ladder dropped down. Neil placed his hands and feet on the lower rungs and instantly it was as if he was frozen. Some sort of current glued him to the ladder while he was lifted safely inside. Neil expected the ladder to release him then, but he was still stuck when a woman in a white coat approached him carrying a syringe. 

“This is just your tracker, Neil. The stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it,” she said.

Neil tried to recoil despite her words. A tracker was against his very nature; it was like his last lifeline was being snapped right in front of his eyes. Everyone could chase him down now. He could cut his face off and live in the mountains, but if someone, if his father, wanted to find him he simply had to follow the signal.

It was no good, though, he was a statue and couldn’t even move if he wanted to. He felt the sharp stab of pain as the needle inserted the metal tracking device deep under the skin on the inside of his forearm. Now the Gamemakers could play with him.

As soon as the tracker was in place, the ladder released him and Neil suppressed the impulse to start clawing at the skin of his forearm. He scratched the spot where the tracker had been injected and couldn’t shake the feeling of seeing it, feeling it under his skin. It was maddening.

The woman disappeared and Roland was retrieved from the roof. An Avox boy came in and directed them to a room where breakfast had been laid out. Despite the tension in Neil’s stomach, he ate as much as he could, although none of the food made any impression on him, he was too nervous. The only thing that distracted him at all was the view from the windows as the hovercraft sailed over the city and then to the wilderness beyond. This was what birds saw. Only they were free and safe, the very opposite of Neil. But when had that not been the case?

The ride lasted about half an hour before the windows blacked out, suggesting that they were nearing the arena. The hovercraft landed and Roland and Neil went back to the ladder, which lead them down into the catacombs, beneath the arena. They followed instructions to Neil’s destination, a chamber for his preparation.

Everything was brand-new; Neil would be the first and only tribute to use this Launch Room. The arenas were historic sites, preserved after the Games and popular destinations for Capitol residents to visit, to vacation. Go for a month, rewatch the Games, tour the catacombs, visit the sites where deaths took place. It was even possible to take part in re-enactments. Neil had visited one arena before, children in the Capitol were supposed to make a school trip to the legendary arena of the first Games. Neil remembered dimly the urban terrain Kayleigh Day had fought and won on.

Neil struggled to keep his breakfast down as he showered and cleaned his teeth. Roland waited for him with the clothes he would wear in the arena, the same for every tribute. The stylists had no say in the outfit, didn’t even know what would be in the package. 

Neil watched Roland unpack and then turn around so Neil could change shirts. A lump formed in Neil’s throat at the man’s easy acceptance of all of Neil’s quirks.

As Neil struggled into the simple black cotton shirt he asked, “Before the interview you said you already knew what my personality is like. What did you mean?” Neil honestly didn’t know. Who was he even?

Roland turned around and gave him a gentle smile. “You are fierce, Neil. You are fire and you burn everything down in your way. You have an effect on people you don’t even know about.”

Neil frowned at that but said nothing. He fastened the sturdy brown belt over a pair of khaki trousers and let Roland help him into a thin, hooded black jacket that fell to his thighs.

“The material in the jacket’s designed to reflect body heat. Expect cold nights,” Roland said.

The boots, worn over skin tight socks, were better than Neil could have hoped for. Soft leather not unlike the ones he had had in District 12. These here had a narrow flexible rubber sole with treads, though, good for running.

Neil thought he was finished when Roland pulled out the orange fox paw pin from his pocket. Neil gaped at it, stunned.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

“Andrew said I should take it from your interview costume. You might need it.” He fastened it to Neil’s shirt. “I had to harass the review board all night for it; they barely cleared it for me. Some thought the pin could be used as a weapon, giving you an unfair advantage. But eventually, they let it through.” Roland zipped Neil’s jacket up and the fox paw vanished beneath it. “They eliminated a ring from one of the District 1 girls, though. If you twisted the raven on it, a spike popped out. A poisoned one. She claimed she had no knowledge the ring transformed and there was no way to prove she did. But she lost her token. Okay, move around. Make sure everything feels comfortable.”

Neil walked, ran in a circle, swung his arms about. “Yes, it’s fine. Fits perfectly.”

“Then there’s nothing to do but wait for the call,” said Roland. “Or do you want to eat some more?”

Neil turned down food but accepted a glass of water that he took tiny sips of as they waited together on a couch.

After a while Neil lost the battle of wills inside him and started to chew on his bottom lip. He could feel it going raw under the constant pressure of his teeth, but didn’t care. He thought about Andrew who was somewhere in these catacombs with Renee by his side. He would tell Neil to stop, that it was distracting. Whatever he meant by that.

Nervousness seeped into terror as he anticipated what was to come. He could be dead, flat-out dead, in an hour. It still wasn’t the worst that could happen to him. Ironic, how the arena was actually the place he was the safest from his father right now.

“Do you want to talk, Neil?” Roland asked.

Neil shook his head but after a moment he changed his mind. “Did you tell Andrew I was dyeing my hair?”

Roland looked astounded for a second, but then he actually laughed. It was a good sound in the otherwise dead-silent Launch Room. “No, quite the contrary actually. He told me about it. Your eyes as well.”

Neil could only nod. Maybe he should be surprised, but he wasn’t. Not with Andrew.

They returned to silence until a pleasant female voice announced it was time to prepare for launch.

With clenched fists, Neil walked over to stand on the circular metal plate. Roland stood right in front of him. “Remember what Kevin said. Run, find water. The rest will follow.” Neil nodded, heart racing in his chest. He thought he could feel the fox paw pressing into his skin.

“And remember this. You are not alone, Neil. Not even in the arena.” He lightly pressed a finger against the spot where the fox paw was under the jacket. “I heard Kevin is betting on you.” He took a step back. “Good luck, boy on fire.”

And then a glass cylinder was lowering around Neil, cutting Roland off from him. Roland tapped his fingers under his chin. Head high.

Neil lifted his chin and stood as straight as he could. The cylinder began to rise.

For maybe fifteen seconds, he was in darkness, and then he could feel the metal plate pushing him out of the cylinder, into the open air. For a moment Neil’s eyes were dazzled by the bright sunlight, and he was conscious only of a strong wind with the hopeful smell of pine trees. Then he could hear the announcer as his voice boomed all around Neil.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Thirty-fourth Hunger Games begin!”

 

Sixty seconds. That was how long they had to stand on their metal circles before the sound of a gong released them. Should someone step off one second too soon, landmines would blow their legs off.

That was sixty seconds for Neil to take in the ring of tributes standing around the Cornucopia, a giant golden horn shaped like a cone with a curved tail, the mouth of which was at least seven meters high, spilling over with things that would give life in the arena. Food, containers of water, weapons, medicine, garments, fire starters. Strewn around the Cornucopia were other supplies, their value decreasing the further they were from the horn.

They were on a flat, open stretch of ground, a meadow. Across from Neil, he could see nothing, which indicated either a steep downwards slope or even a cliff. To his right was a lake and to his left and back, sparse piney woods. Neil could hear Kevin’s voice that told him to run that way. Only it was his mother spitting out instructions in his head. He could feel her nails digging in his scalp, telling him to flee.

Neil was only tempted for a second to go after the bounty in the horn. He knew he was fast, he could probably outrun every tribute, but the second he’d reach it, he’d be trapped. The Careers usually lead the bloodbath and divided up most of the life-sustaining spoils, and Gorilla could kill Neil with a swat of his giant hand.

Neil looked around and suddenly he noticed Andrew. He was about five tributes to his right, quite a fair distance; still, Neil could tell he was looking at him. Neil stared, was Andrew mouthing something to him?

While Neil was puzzling over it the gong rang out.

Neil’s feet shuffled for a moment, confused at the direction his brain wanted to take, and then he lunged forward. He wasn’t thinking anymore; he sprinted in twenty meters to retrieve a bright orange backpack that could hold anything. His mother was screaming at his stupidity, he should just run! Run!

A boy, Neil thought maybe from District 9, reached the pack at the same time as Neil and for a brief moment they grappled for it, and then the boy coughed, splattering Neil’s face with blood. Neil staggered back, repulsed by the warm, sticky spray. The boy slipped to the ground and that’s when Neil saw the knife in his back. Already other tributes had reached the Cornucopia and were spreading out to attack.

A girl from District 1, not the blonde one, was ten meters away and running towards him, one hand clutching a half-dozen knives. Neil had seen her in training; she knew what she was doing. And apparently Neil was her next target.

If Neil was familiar with one thing, it was running. And especially running from someone who was throwing knives at him.

Adrenaline shot through him and he slung the pack over one shoulder and ran full-speed for the woods. He could hear the blade whistling towards him and reflexively hiked the pack up to protect his head. The blade stuck in the pack.

Both straps on his shoulders now, Neil made for the trees. The girl wouldn’t follow him, she had to head back to the Cornucopia before all the good stuff was gone. At the edge of the woods Neil turned for one instant to survey the field. About a dozen or so tributes were hacking away at one another at the horn. Several lay dead already on the ground. Those who had taken flight were disappearing into the trees or into the void opposite from Neil. He continued running until the woods had hidden him from the other tributes, then slowed into a steady jog that he thought he could maintain for a while.

For the next few hours Neil alternated between jogging and walking, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the other tributes. This was a familiar routine, muscle memory to him. There had been countless close calls with his father and his father’s people in the past which had always ended with him and his mother running into the wilderness to shake off any pursuers.

He stopped eventually to examine the contents of his backpack. It was sturdily made, although it had a rather unfortunate color. He would need to camouflage it before dusk or else the orange would practically glow in the dark. The knife that had stuck in it had a long sharp blade, serrated near the handle, which would make it handy for sawing through things. Neil couldn’t help the bitter laugh escaping his heavily working lungs. Of course, it had to be a knife. He slid it into his belt with a sigh; it was better than nothing.

Neil flipped open the flap and laid out the provisions. One thin black sleeping bag that reflected body heat. A pack of crackers and a pack of dried beef strips. A bottle iodine. A box of wooden matches. A small coil of wire. A pair of sunglasses. And a two-liter plastic bottle with a cap for carrying water that was bone dry. After memorizing every item and its usefulness, he packed everything back in and stood up. He needed to find water next.

The woods began to evolve, and the pines were intermixed with a variety of trees now. At one point he heard a noise and dived behind a trunk only to see a rabbit sniffing around. That was good, if there was one rabbit there could be hundreds just waiting to be snared and they probably had a water source close by.

He felt thirsty now after hours of marching, but he didn’t feel too bad. The days of gorging down Capitol food had paid off and being back in the woods was refreshing; he had missed running and walking in the constricting Training Center. He was also glad for the solitude, even though it was an illusion, he was probably on-screen right now. Not consistently, but off and on. There were so many deaths to show, they probably didn’t care much for him trekking through the woods alone.

It was late afternoon when Neil heard the cannons. Each shot represented a dead tribute, so the fighting must have finally stopped at the Cornucopia. Neil allowed himself to pause, panting as he counted the shots. One… two… three… on and on until they reached eleven. Eleven dead, thirteen left to play.

He rubbed over his face where the blood of the boy from District 9 had dried. His thoughts instantly went to Andrew. He was absolutely certain he had survived the day. It couldn’t be any different. Andrew was strong. And smart. He wouldn’t have engaged in the bloodbath. 

Biting his lip, Neil looked over his shoulder. They were both on their own now, but the thought of looking for Andrew stuck with him. He forced himself to continue, and as the shadows grew larger and the sun set lower, he found a tiny stream between two rocks.

He almost plunged his face into the water, madly thirsty. He was sweating and his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth. But he restrained himself and pulled out his bottle to fill it with water and added what he remembered to be the right number of drops of iodine for purifying it. The half an hour waiting was agony, but he did it. At least Neil thought it was half an hour. He took a few careful sips, then grabbed a handful mud from the bottom of the stream and smeared it over his backpack. He repeated that a few more times until it was coated in dirt. He noted the location and packed up to find a place to sleep tonight.

On his way he used the knife to work on a pine tree, cutting away the outer bark and scraping off a large handful of the softer inner bark. He had watched Robin doing so during their group training sessions.  He slowly chewed the stuff as he walked along, it sure was a shift from eating for two weeks only the finest food, but he had also eaten worse.

Night creatures were slowly coming out. Neil could hear the occasional hoot or howl, his first clue that he would be competing with natural predators for the rabbits. And as to whether he would be viewed as a source of food was too soon to tell. There could be any number of animals stalking him at this moment. But for now, Neil decided to make his fellow tributes a priority. He was sure many would continue hunting through the night. Those who had fought it out at the Cornucopia would have food, an abundance of water from the lake, torches or flashlights, and weapons they were probably itching to use.

Neil only hoped he had travelled far and fast enough to be out of their range.

Before settling down, Neil took the wire from his backpack and set two twitch-up snares in the brush. It was risky setting traps, but food would go out fast here and he couldn’t set snares on the run. He walked another five minutes before making camp. He picked his tree carefully. A willow, not terribly tall but set in a clump of other willows, offering concealment in those long, flowing tresses.

Neil climbed up and found himself a sturdy fork for his bed. It took some doing, but he arranged the sleeping bag in a relatively comfortable manner. He placed the backpack in the foot of the bag, then slid in after it. As a precaution, he removed his belt, looped it all the way around the branch and his sleeping bag, and refastened it at his waist. Neil usually didn’t move in his sleep, it would have woken up his mother when they had still been together, but he wouldn’t take risks now.

He was small enough to tuck the top of the bag over his head, but he put on his hood as well because as night fell the air was cooling quickly. He was glad he had taken the backpack earlier, the sleeping bag would be invaluable now. Other tributes were probably fighting the cold right now, whereas he might be able to get a few hours of sleep. His mind wandered again and he thought of Andrew. He thought of that last night on the rooftop not even twenty-four hours ago. Andrew radiating body heat and smelling of cigarettes and mint soap. Neil still couldn’t believe he had told him about his father. He hadn’t been this honest with anyone, except his mother. It didn’t matter, though. One of them, if not both, wouldn’t make it out the arena alive. Maybe it was a good thing they weren’t together; Neil didn’t want to kill Andrew.

Night had just come when he heard the anthem that preceded the death recap. Through the branches Neil could see the seal of the Capitol, which appeared to be floating in the sky. He was actually viewing another screen, an enormous one that was transported by one of their hovercrafts.

The anthem faded out and the sky went dark for a moment. The faces of the eleven dead tributes were shown, one after another with their district numbers attached. The first to appear was the girl from District 3, which meant that the Careers from 1 and 2 had all survived. No surprise there. Then the boy from 4. That surprised Neil a little, usually all Careers made it through the first day. The boy from District 5, both tributes from 6 and 7. One of the girls from 8. Both from 9. Neil remembered the boy’s blood on his face.

He counted with his fingers; only one more dead tribute to go. He bit his lip, it couldn’t be Andrew. 

It was the girl from District 10. And that was it. The Capitol seal was back with a final musical flourish. Then darkness and the sounds of the forest resumed.

Eleven dead, but none from District 12. Neil tried to work out who was left. Five Career Tributes, the sly girl from 5, James or Jack from 10, Amal and Robin. Neil didn’t know why but he felt a little glad that she had made it. The other two he would figure out tomorrow.

Neil allowed his muscles slowly to relax, during his time on the run he had slept everywhere. Behind garbage cans, in damp cold caves, one time in a wooden crate between cattle fodder. He had no problem falling asleep in a tree.

 

The sound of a breaking branch woke him up. How long had he been asleep? Four hours? Five? The tip of his nose was icy cold. Another snap.

That was not the sound of a branch under someone’s foot, but the sharp crack of one coming from a tree. Someone was breaking off branches.

Neil judged it to be several hundred meters to his right. Slowly, noiselessly, he turned himself in that direction. For a few minutes, there was nothing but blackness and some scuffling, then he saw a spark and a small fire began to bloom. A pair of hands warmed over flames, but he couldn’t make out more than that.

Neil bit down on his lip to not start cursing and climbing down to strangle the fire starter. He knew this was actually the spirit of the Games, but the stupidity of this person would certainly draw the Career Tributes and they would kill them, with Neil having nothing to do but wait. The problem was, Neil was only a stone’s throw from the biggest idiot in the Games, strapped to tree, not daring to flee since his general location had just been broadcasted to any killer who cared. His anger made him bite down harder, and he felt his lip break, blood seeping in his mouth. Some people were really too fucking stupid to live.

The thought of taking out his new neighbor came after his initial instinct to flee. He wouldn’t have the least problem killing them, the person was obviously a hazard, stupid people were dangerous. He thought about the knife in his belt and his stomach churned. Could he slit someone’s throat? Theoretically he could, he knew a dozen deadly spots to cut and stab, but could he  _ do _ it? He thought about the feeling of the blade against his own skin and he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t be like his father.

The sky was still dark, but the first signs of dawn were approaching. Neil was beginning to think they  –  he and the person whose death he was still devising  –  might actually have gone unnoticed. Then he heard it. Several pairs of feet breaking into a run. The fire starter must have dozed off, they were on her before she could escape. Neil knew it was a girl now, he could tell by the pleading and the agonized scream that followed. Then there was laughter and congratulations from several voices. A girl cried out, “Twelve down and eleven to go!” The voice reminded Neil of Lola with the crazy playfulness in it.

They were fighting in a pack. That was nothing unusual, often alliances were formed in the early stages of the Games. The strong banded together to hunt down the weak; then, when the tension became too great, they began to turn on one another. It wasn’t difficult to tell that it was the remaining Careers, the boys from 2 and 4 and the girls from 1 and 2.

For a moment, Neil could hear them checking the girl for supplies. According to their comments, they found nothing good. Neil wondered if the victim was Robin, but he quickly dismissed the thought. She was way too bright to be building a fire like that.

“Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking,” Gorilla said and there were murmurs of assent. And then, to Neil’s horror, he heard the pack heading towards him. They knew he was here. How could they? No, he was well concealed in the clump of trees. At least while the sun stayed down, afterwards his black sleeping bag would turn from camouflage to trouble.

The Careers stopped in the clearing about ten meters from Neil’s tree. They had flashlights and torches. He could see an arm here, a boot there. He turned into stone, not even daring to breathe.

“Shouldn’t we have heard the cannon by now?” The girl from 2, Leverett if Neil remembered correctly, asked.

“I’d say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately.” The blonde girl from District 1. Had it been her with the poisonous raven ring?

“Unless she isn’t dead.”

“She’s dead. I killed her myself.” Gorilla.

“Then where’s the cannon?”

“I’ll go back and finish her. Fuck, Hawking, is there anything you can do?” 

Gorilla cursed at Leverett, but she was already walking away.

“Any idea where to go next? There’s still no sign of Pretty Boy or his boyfriend.” It took Neil a moment to realize they were talking about him and Andrew.

“We wouldn’t have this problem if you wouldn’t have missed!” The blonde girl again. Neil could hear her moving around.

“Fuck you, he was fast. Like a fucking weasel. And his boyfriend ran off in another direction, so they aren’t together. Pretty Boy shouldn’t be a problem, once we find him.” That was probably the raven haired girl with the knives.

“He still got an eleven. Wish we knew how.”

“Maybe we can beat it out of the boyfriend.”

The sound of Leverett returning silenced them.

“Was she dead?” Gorilla asked. 

“No. But she is now,” Leverett snorted. Just then, the cannon fired.

The Career pack set off at a run just as dawn began to break and birdsongs filled the air. Neil remained in his position for a while longer, listening for signs of any other tributes.

They were looking for Andrew and him. In hindsight it should have been obvious that they would target Neil. He had gotten the highest score after all, and of course they would hunt Andrew down, because he should know where Neil was. Did everyone actually believe Neil was under Andrew’s protection?

Suddenly, the birds fell silent. Then one gave a high-pitched warning call, just a single note, and high above the dying campfire a hovercraft materialized. A set of large metal teeth dropped down and slowly, gently, the dead tribute girl was lifted into the hovercraft that vanished the next moment. The birds resumed their song.

“Move,” whispered Neil to himself. His voice was rough from not using it for a whole day. He wiggled out of his sleeping bag, rolled it up and placed it back inside the pack. He took a deep breath. He had water, he had food. He should simply march as far away as possible, maybe he could find the arena’s end. The tracker under his skin was itching and Neil looked down, expecting to see it move like a bug. With his eyes closed he caught himself thinking that he wanted to look for Andrew. The desire to do so hit him unprepared. He was used to looking out for himself and himself alone. He would leave everyone behind if it meant his survival. But the thought of the Career Tributes hunting Andrew because of  _ him _ gave Neil an uneasy feeling.

In the end it was his mother’s voice who urged him on, the phantom pain around his wrist that felt like her hand pressing down.

The lure of possible meat made Neil check his snares, and he was rewarded with a fine rabbit. I was probably imprudent to stay any longer with other people so close by, but he cleaned and gutted the animal in no time. He left the head, feet, tail, skin and innards under a pile of leaves and headed to the camp of the dead tribute. The coals of her dying fire were still hot, so Neil cut up the rabbit, fashioned a spit out of branches, and set it over the coals.

When the rabbit was done, he pulled on his gear, grabbed the spit, kicked some dirt over the coals and took off in the opposite direction the Careers had gone. He would stick with his plan of evading any further confrontation with other tributes. What was it that Robin had said? They can’t kill her if they can’t catch her. Andrew might have been right with the rabbit thing. It was easier to run than to fight and he was fast after all.

Neil ate half of the rabbit as he walked and wrapped the leftovers in big leaves he found on a plant he could identify as nontoxic. He tried to ration his water, but as the sun rose higher the thirstier he got. The water was almost gone when he caught the scent of lilies and his boots were sticking in the muddy earth from time to time.

The pond was maybe twenty meters from him, hidden behind plants. Neil refilled his bottle and shook out of his jacket to wash his sweat coated arms and face. He wished he could take a bath, but he sure as hell wouldn’t strip in front of the whole of Panem. Instead he only took off his boots and socks and went inside the pond fully clothed.

Over the next couple of hours he drank the entire two liters. Then some more and eventually refilled it and retired to a tree, where he ate the rabbit and even two precious crackers. By the time the anthem played, he was actually full and somewhat sleepy.

There were no faces tonight; no one had died. Tomorrow Neil would stay here, resting, catching some of those little fish he had seen in the pond and maybe digging up the roots of the pond lilies to make a meal out of them.

He closed his eyes and dreamed of his mother showing him how to gut a fish while she repeatedly told him, “Leave him behind.”

A few hours later, the stampede of feet startled Neil out of his sleep. He looked around in bewilderment; it wasn’t yet dawn, but the wall of fire descending on him was hard to miss.

 

Neil wanted to scramble from the tree, but he was still belted in. Hastily he released the belt with fumbling fingers and he fell to the ground, still snarled in his sleeping bag. He had no time for any kind of packing, so he only shoved his belt in the sleeping bag with the pack, hoisted the bag over his shoulder and fled.

The world around him was an inferno, the smoke making it hard for him to breathe or see. Burning branches cracked from trees and fell in showers of sparks at his feet.

All Neil could do was follow the others, the rabbits and deer. He trusted their sense of direction, their instincts were sharper than his, after all. They were much faster than him though, flying through the underbrush gracefully while Neil stumbled over roots and fallen tree limbs. There was no way he could keep up with them.

The smoke got thicker and threatened to suffocate him. So he pulled the top of his shirt over his nose, actually grateful to find it soaked in sweat, and it offered a thin veil of protection. And he ran, choking, his face cut by branches that materialize from the gray haze without warning, and Neil realized he was supposed to run.

This was no tribute’s campfire that had gone out of control, no accidental occurrence. The flames had an unnatural height, a uniformity that marked them as human-made, machine-made, Gamemaker-made.  _ Fuck you, Riko _ .

Things had been too quiet today. The audience in the Capitol was getting bored; they would be claiming that these Games were verging on dullness. The one thing the Games must not do. It wasn’t hard to follow the Gamemakers’ motivation here. There was the Career pack and then there were the rest of them, probably spread out across the arena. This fire was designed to flush them all out and to drive them together.

In a matter of minutes, Neil’s throat and nose were burning. The coughing started soon after and his lungs began to feel as if they were actually being cooked. Discomfort turned into distress until each breath sent a searing pain through Neil’s chest. He managed to take cover under a stone outcropping just as the vomiting started, and he lost his meager supper. He was crouching on his hands and knees, retching until there was nothing left.

He knew he had to keep moving, but he was trembling and light-headed now, gasping for air. One minute. Only sixty seconds.

Neil rinsed his mouth with a spoonful of water, then shoved his sleeping bag inside the backpack for better mobility. His body was moving on its own now. He had never had to run from a fire before, but his survival instincts were kicking in and he took off in a random direction. Through the smoke he had lost all sense of direction, but it didn’t matter. He had to escape this flaming hell.

About half a meter from his head a fireball suddenly blasted into a rock. Neil swiftly changed his course and the second fireball exploded in front of his feet. The game had taken a twist. The fire had just been to get them moving; now the audience would get to see some real fun.

When Neil heard the next hiss he flattened on the ground, not taking time to look. The fireball hit a tree off to his left. Neil was on his feet a second later, not a moment too soon as another fireball hit the ground where he had just been lying.

Time lost meaning as Neil frantically tried to dodge the attacks. He couldn’t see where they were being launched from, probably this whole area had been armed with precision launchers that were concealed in trees and rocks.

Somewhere, in a cool and spotless room, Riko was sitting at a set of controls, fingers on the triggers that could end Neil’s life in a second.

“Fuck you, you piece of shit,” Neil gritted out and then there was nothing left for him but to keep on moving. His mother was screaming in his head, “Faster, faster!”

After a while the attacks finally abated. Neil was forced to stop because he had to retch again, this time an acidic substance that scalded his throat and made its way into his nose as well. His body convulsed, trying desperately to rid itself of the poisons he had been sucking in during the attacks.

He waited for the next hiss, the next signal to bolt, but it didn’t come. Tears were streaming down from his stinging eyes and he was drenched in sweat. Angrily he wiped over his dirty cheeks, when suddenly he registered the hissing sound. Neil’s muscles reacted, only not fast enough and suddenly pain exploded on the left side of his face.

He didn’t know what was happening until he realized he was sitting on the ground, a few meters from the blaze set off by the fireball. And he was screaming. He threw his hands up and clapped them over his mouth so the screaming would be muffled. He couldn’t stop crying and every tear felt like acid on his now burned cheek. The smell of singed hair made him gag. He was shaking too hard to move. If the Gamemakers, if Riko, wanted to finish him off, now was the time.

But of course, the real sport of the Hunger Games was watching the tributes kill each other. The Gamemakers only wanted to keep things interesting, maybe play with the boy on fire by setting him actually on fire. The more Neil thought about it, the more he was sure this had been Riko’s doing. Either way, now that the attacks had stopped for real, at least one other tribute was close at hand to kill Neil.

He would drag himself into a tree and take cover, but he could barely think with the pain in his face. He had been lucky the fireball hadn’t hit his eye. All he could do now was make himself stand and limp away from the wall of flames that no longer seemed to be pursuing him.

Neil was so weary he didn’t even notice he was in a pool until the water reached his knees. It was spring-fed, bubbling up out of a crevice in some rocks, and blissfully cool. He plunged his hands into the water and felt instant relief. Wasn’t that the first treatment for a burn? Cold water to draw out the heat? It might be true for his hands and the other minor burns, but his face felt like it had been ripped off and filled with burning coals.

After a moment of consideration, he put his face underwater and screamed at the contact on his wound. He had no way of examining it without a mirror, so he had no idea with what kind of burn he was dealing with. 

He lay on his stomach at the edge of the pool for a while, dangling his hands in the water and sometimes splashing a little on his face. He could still feel pain, so the nerves had not been destroyed. That was good. His legs were uninjured too, and he should probably use them and get the hell out of here.

Behind him, Neil could still make out the heavy smoke and in front of him Career Tributes were probably waiting. The Gamemakers had driven him most likely into their arms.

After some time, he pulled out his water bottle and started to rehydrate himself again. He forced down a cracker which actually helped and settled his stomach.

He should move on, but it seemed impossible to leave the little pond with the cooling water while his left cheek was still burning. With a heavy sigh he leaned back on his backpack, overcome by drowsiness. Let the Career Tributes find him, he didn’t care anymore.

And they found him. Neil was lucky he was ready to move on, because when he heard the feet, he had less than a minute head start. The sun was setting when Neil was up and running, splashing across the pool, flying into the underbrush. Twigs hit his wounded cheek and he had to bite down on his lip to not cry out in agony. Again tears were spilling, it annoyed Neil even more than the actual injury.

The pain slowed him slightly down, but he sensed his pursuers were not as speedy as they had been before the fire, either. He heard their coughs, their raspy voices calling to one another. They were still closing in, just like a pack of wild dogs, and so Neil did the only thing he could think of in such a situation. He picked a high tree and started to climb. His hands hurt. The rough texture of the bark rubbed over the raw, burned skin of his palms, and the pain made him contort his face, which made the wound on his cheek flare up.

He was fast though, and by the time they had reached the base of the trunk, Neil was six meters up.

For a moment they all stopped and surveyed each other. Neil’s heart was pounding fast like a hummingbird. What chance did he have against them? All five Careers were there, and even though they all looked pretty beat-up too, they had their weapons. They were grinning and snarling at Neil, sure about the kill above them. It seemed pretty hopeless, until Neil realized that they may be bigger and stronger than him, but also a lot heavier.

Suddenly Neil couldn’t help but smile his father’s smile as he called down to them, “You look like shit!”

The Careers were taken aback, the audience would probably love it.

“A funny little squirrel you are,” Gorilla called back. “You don’t look so swell either.”

“I heard Gorillas don’t like climbing very much, is that true?” He looked pointedly at Gorilla and the boy from District 4 snorted.

With a snarl, Gorilla shoved Leverett out of his way. “I’m getting him.”

“Take this,” said the blonde girl from District 1 and offered him a silver bow and a sheath of arrows.

“No,” Gorilla said, pushing away the bow. “I’m better with my sword.” Neil could see the short, heavy blade at his belt. Kevin would love this, if he wasn’t fainting right now at Neil’s uncalled for cockiness.

Neil gave Gorilla time to hoist himself into the tree before he started to climb again. When Andrew had labeled Robin a squirrel he had never seen Neil climb up a tree. He was swift, thanks to his smaller stature and weight, and he had climbed many trees while running from people scarier than this Gorilla from District 2.

He was another nine meters in the air when he heard the crack. Neil looked down and saw Gorilla flailing as he and a branch went down. He hit the ground hard, and Neil was hoping he possibly had broken his neck, when he got back to his feet, cursing loudly.

Blondie from District 1 tried her luck as well, but the branches cracked under her weight and she had the good sense to stop. She then tried shooting at him, but she was pretty much incompetent with a bow.

One of the arrows got lodged in the tree near Neil though, and he was able to seize it. He waved it teasingly above her head and then flipped them all off. He couldn’t help it, they were pissing him off.

The Careers regrouped on the ground and growled conspiratorially among themselves. Twilight had arrived and their window of attack on him was closing. Finally, the raven-haired girl from District 1 said, “Let him stay up there. It’s not like he’s going anywhere. We’ll deal with him in the morning.”

She was right. He couldn’t go anywhere. His cheek was burning so bad it made his eyes water again, but he willed the tears down.

He scooted down to a fork in the tree and clumsily prepared for bed. Hood over his head, he slipped inside the sleeping bag and belted himself in. He didn’t moan or show any other sign of pain, except the excessive biting on his lips and the few tears he couldn’t control.

The hood was too hot for his burned cheek so he put it down again, accepting that one half of his face was melted off while the other would freeze over.

Neil stared into the foliage, trying to will himself to rest, but the pain forbade it. Birds were settling down for the night. Night creatures emerged. An owl hooted. The eyes of some animal peered at him from the neighboring tree – a possum maybe – catching the firelight from the Career’s torches. Suddenly Neil was up on one elbow. Those were no possum’s eyes; in fact those were not animal eyes at all.

In the last dim rays of light, Neil could make her out, watching him silently from between the branches.

Robin.

For a while they held each other’s gaze. Then, without even rustling a leaf, she pointed at something above Neil’s head.

Neil’s eyes followed the line of her finger up into the foliage above him. At first, he had no idea what she was pointing at, but then, he could make out a vague shape about five meters up.

It took him a moment to register the shape as a wasp’s nest. Now that he knew, he could hear the low humming too.

Would this be any other place but the Hunger Games, Neil would think it was a simple nest of leave-us-alone-and-we’ll-leave-you alone wasps. But it was more likely he was dealing with one of the Capitol’s muttations, tracker jackers. These killer wasps had been spawned in a lab and strategically placed, like landmines, around the districts during the war.

Larger than regular wasps, they had a distinctive solid gold body and a sting that rose a lump the size of a plum on contact. Most people couldn’t tolerate more than a few stings. Some died at once. If they lived, the hallucinations brought on by the venom had actually driven people to madness.

The thing was, these wasps would hunt down anyone who disturbed their nest and attempt to kill them. That was where the tracker part of the name came from.

Neil looked back to Robin, but she had melted into her tree. He bit his lip. Given his circumstances, it didn’t matter what kind of nest it was anyway. Darkness had given him a brief reprieve, but at dawn the Careers would have formulated a plan to kill him.

The nest might be the sole option he had left. If he could drop it down on them, he could maybe escape.

He would have to saw off the branch with the whole nest though, otherwise he’d be stung to death before he even reached it. Could his hands handle it? And would the vibration from the sawing rise the swarm? There was no other way of finding out but trying.

Neil dragged himself out of the bag, secured the knife in his belt and began to make his way up the tree.

When he reached the limb that supported the nest, the humming became more distinctive. It was still oddly subdued if those were tracker jackers. It had to be the smoke, Neil realized. It had sedated them.

As Neil started to saw, the Capitol’s seal showed above him and the anthem blared out. Immediately blisters burst on his right hand as he awkwardly dragged the knife back and forth. He gritted his teeth and sawed away, barely registering that there had been no deaths today. He only managed three quarters, before the pain in his hands became unbearable and he had to stop. There was no other choice but to let his hands rest and resume the task early in the morning. In the faint light of the Career’s torches, Neil inched back down to his fork and found the best surprise he’d ever had.

Sitting on his sleeping bag was a small plastic pot attached to a silver parachute. His first gift from a sponsor. Wymack must have had it sent in during the anthem.

A small note stuck to it that read:  _ Apply generously and stay alive – W _

The pot was smaller than Neil’s palm, and the second he unscrewed the lid he knew it was medicine. It was some sort of ointment, and when Neil put some of it experimentally on his fingertips the throbbing in them vanished immediately.

Neil closed his eyes for a second and thought about Roland’s parting words. He was not alone. “Thank you,” he whispered. No one had given up on him yet. The cost for this medicine must have been astronomical and probably more than one sponsor had contributed to it.

Still, Neil had to decide where he wanted to put the ointment. There was not enough for his face and his hands. When he thought about the nest above him, the decision came easy. He spread the balm over his palms, rubbed it in gingerly, and the effect was almost magical, erasing the pain on contact and leaving a pleasant cooling sensation behind. The small rest of the medicine he put on his face which felt a lot better afterwards, but was still throbbing. Without the pain, fatigue overcame Neil fast, and he stuck to his plan to continue with the nest in the early morning when the Career’s would still be sleeping.

Neil rose from a restless slumber and instantly set out to work. He ate a cracker and a strip of beef, drank a few sips of water and then peered down at the Career pack, where they were asleep on the ground. By her position, leaning up against the trunk of the tree, Blondie had been supposed to be on guard, but sleep had overcome her.

Neil’s eyes squinted as they tried to penetrate the tree next to him, but he couldn’t make out Robin. Since she had tipped him off, it was only fair to warn her. He called Robin’s name in a hushed whisper and her eyes appeared, wide and alert, at once. She pointed up at the nest again, and Neil held up his knife and made a sawing motion. She nodded and disappeared. There was a rustling in a nearby tree, then some noise again a bit further off. Neil realized she was leaping from tree to tree and the seven she had gotten made a lot more sense now. She should have gotten at least a ten, though.

Compared to last night’s climb, this one felt like a walk in the park. His hands were as good as new, and the throbbing in his face was manageable compared to the pain he had felt before. He positioned himself and was about to draw the teeth of his knife across the wood when he saw them moving. The bright gold gleam of a few tracker jackers that were making their way lazily across the papery gray surface of the nest. They were still a little subdued, but they acted livelier than last night and others would be out soon as well.

Sweat broke out on Neil’s palms, and he did his best to pat them dry on his shirt. He had to get through this branch in a matter of seconds or else the entire swarm could emerge and attack him.

With a deep breath, Neil bore down as hard as he could and started to saw. The tracker jackers began to buzz and he heard them coming out. His mother was pushing him in his mind, faster, faster!

A stabbing pain shot through his knee, and he knew one had found him and the others would soon follow.

And just as the knife cut through, Neil shoved the end of the branch as far away from himself as possible. It crashed down through the lower branches until it smashed on the ground with a thud. The nest burst open like an egg, and a furious swarm of tracker jackers took to the air. Neil felt a second sting on his cheek, a third on his neck, and their venom almost immediately made him dizzy. He ripped the barbed stingers out of his flesh. Fortunately, only those three tracker jackers had identified him; the rest of the insects targeted their enemies on the ground.

It was mayhem. The Careers were woken up to a full-scale tracker-jacker attack. Gorilla and a few others had the sense to drop everything and bolted. Neil heard cries of “To the lake! To the lake!”, where they probably hoped to evade the wasps by taking to the water.

Blondie was not so lucky. She received multiple stings before her fellow tributes were even out of view. Her cries for help were of course not answered. Neil watched her fall, twitching hysterically around on the ground for a few minutes, then she went still.

The nest was nothing but an empty shell now. The wasps had vanished in pursuit of the others. They would probably not return, but Neil didn’t want to risk it. He scampered down the tree and hit the ground. Before he took off running, his eyes fell on Blondie who looked horrifying. Her limbs were three times their normal size. The stinger lumps had begun to explode, spewing putrid green liquid around her. Her swollen fingers were stiffened around the bow. 

The bow!

Neil had to break several of her fingers with a stone to free the bow. The sheath of arrows was pinned under her back. He tried to roll her body over by pulling one arm, but the flesh disintegrated in his hands and he fell back on the ground.

Was this real? Or had the hallucinations set in? He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe through his mouth, ordering himself not to be sick.

Lurching to his knees, the trees around Neil started to spin in circles. He clenched his jaw and dug his hands under Blondie’s body. He got a hold on what must be her ribcage and forced her onto her stomach. He had no idea what was real anymore; he grasped for the sheath with the arrows and tugged on it. Something made a sickening, crunching sound but then he had yanked it free.

He wanted to get up, but suddenly he was thrown on his back and two hands were pressing down on his throat. His father was smiling at him, and Neil started to thrash around. He had no sense of reality anymore; all he could see was the blue of his father’s eyes and his smile as he carved something in his flesh. No, wait. He was strangling him. No, he was pressing the hot iron down on his cheek. “Please, don’t, please, please—” Only low whimpers escaped his mouth and the face over him shifted into that of a boy, green eyes staring him down, and suddenly the pressure around Neil’s throat was gone.

A firework exploded over him and shattered into a million stars. They turned into droplets on their way down, and Neil’s face was splattered with blood all at once.

Neil blinked, he couldn’t move. Ants were crawling over his arms and legs, over his face from the blisters on his cheek and neck.

A firm hand grabbed his arm and hoisted him up. Neil looked into hazel eyes, someone said something to him. He was pulled along, through a stream of blood, and suddenly the ants bore into his eyes. His last thought before blacking out was that Andrew could probably carry him without any difficulty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought so much about the possibilities of Andrew and Neil in the arena. Initially, I wanted them together from Day 1. But then I had another idea which you'll see in the next chapter, so I ended up with Neil doing the same stuff Katniss did.  
> (Also Neil constantly thinking about Andrew? Gay.)


	7. A Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to split this chapter up, but then I thought eh whatever. Have another long chapter where lots of stuff happens!  
> Robin's character is a little experiment, I honestly don't know enough about her.

Neil entered a nightmare from which he woke repeatedly, only to find a greater terror awaiting him. All the things he dreaded the most manifested in such vivid detail he couldn’t help but believe they were real.

Each time he woke up he thought that it was finally over. But it wasn’t. Only the beginning of a new chapter of torture. He had lost count how many times his father had skinned him alive and cut his tendons so he couldn’t run away anymore. Neil relived the moments of his worst injuries inflected by him and his people over and over again. He saw his mother die, burned her body and left the bones behind so often the process lost all meaning. And then he saw Andrew, tortured by Gorilla and the other Careers because they wanted to know where Neil was. And Gorilla turned into Neil’s father and Andrew into Neil. This was the nature of the tracker-jacker venom, so carefully created to target the place where fear lived in the brain. 

When Neil finally did come to his senses, he lay still, waiting for the next onslaught of imagery. Eventually, he accepted that the poison must have finally worked its way out of his system, leaving his body wrecked and feeble.

He was lying on his back, head propped up on something soft, and when he lifted a hand, mushy leaves fell from it. The simple motion of stretching out his limbs required an enormous effort.

“You are so fucking stupid, I really want to kill you right now.”

Neil’s head whipped around so fast, he thought he felt something crack in his neck. In front of him, sitting against the base of a tree in the shadow, was Andrew. He looked like Neil remembered him, only a few scratches on his face and upper arms, where Neil could see the skin. He wore the black t-shirt they all wore and his armbands. Probably the token he had been allowed to take with him inside the arena. He was watching Neil with such indifference, Neil wanted to laugh in relief. The only sound leaving his lips was a retching gasp, though.

Andrew stood up from where he was sitting and made his way over. He crouched down besides Neil, grabbed his neck to help him stay upright and shoved a full water bottle in his hands. “Drink.” 

Neil did as he was told. He took tiny sips and tried to remember what had happened. How long had he been out? It had been morning when he had lost reason and now it was sometime before midday. But the stiffness in his joints suggested more than a day had passed, maybe even two. Who had survived the tracker-jacker attack? Certainly not the girl from District 1, he remembered her twitching and the sound her bones had made when Neil had broken her hand to get the bow. Had Andrew stayed with him this whole time?

Neil set the water bottle aside and turned his head towards Andrew. The other sat cross-legged next to him, elbow on his thigh and head resting on his fist. Only then Neil saw the dark, narrow bruise running down over his cheekbone from the corner of his right eye. The force of impact had left half of his eye red with blood.

“What happened?” Neil asked and was shocked to hear his voice was a mere rasping sound. His hand flew to his throat and he prodded with his fingertips the swollen skin. So the choking had not been a hallucination.

Andrew still understood and he made a vague hand gesture to Neil as he said, “Do you mean before you had the wonderful idea of pissing off five killers that have been hunting you since the Games started, or after you dropped a fucking tracker-jacker nest on them and got stung in the process?”

Neil swallowed and a foul, rotten taste pervaded his mouth the water had little effect on. “Everything,” he croaked. He had meant Andrew’s eye, but talking hurt too much so he settled for the full story.

Without taking his eyes off of Neil, Andrew grabbed something from behind his back and offered it to him. Mint leaves, as Neil could see. Andrew pointed to his own mouth. “You smell like something died in there. Chew on them.” After Neil tentatively took a few of the leaves in his mouth, Andrew started to explain. “After you couldn’t be bothered to move your stupid ass because you were busy robbing dead people, the guy from 4 returned. Thought the best way to get rid of a pest like you would be choking the life out of you, I really get that sentiment. Whatever, I spent too much time tracking you down to leave the pleasure to some random guy. Guess I officially joined the Games now by slitting his throat.” He looked completely unbothered by that.

Neil pointed at his right eye. “What about this?” The mint leaves actually helped his breath immensely. His throat was still sore, and it would take a while for his voice to sound normal again. Screaming was no longer an option.

“I could ask you the same,” Andrew replied and took Neil’s chin between his fingers to examine the burn mark on his cheek. Neil was sure there wasn’t a part on his body that was not injured by now. 

“Fireball,” he said. He wanted to see Andrew’s bruise as well, but when he lifted his hand to Andrew’s face, the other retreated and shook his head. “Don’t.”

So Neil let his hand fall uselessly in his lap. He fumbled awkwardly with the zipper of his jacket before saying, “Thank you.” He looked up to see Andrew’s reaction.

“For what?”

“You saved my life.” Without Andrew he would be dead. Choked to death by the boy from District 4 whose dried blood was still coating his face, throat and jacket. Because Andrew had killed him. To save Neil. Why?

“Don’t thank me. She told me where your stupid ass had run to.” 

Neil blinked. She?

And then he saw her. Peeking out from behind the thick trunk of a beech. She looked even smaller than in their training sessions, her eyes were huge and now they were flickering nervously between Andrew and Neil.

“Stop that acting shy and come out,” Andrew said without even sparing her a glance.

Robin moved soundlessly; she was like a ghost, not even the leaves under her feet were rustling. She stopped a safe distance from Neil, but actually stayed within Andrew’s reach. Bewildered, Neil realized she trusted Andrew. Could it be that the Careers were not the only ones who had formed an alliance?

Neil and Robin regarded each other for a moment before Neil finally said, “Thank you. Robin, right?” She nodded, then cocked her head. “We need to change your leaves. The poison is almost gone from your system, but it’s better to be sure.”

She came closer now, still a little wary but trusting in Andrew’s judgment. “Lie down,” she said and dug in the pack she carried to pull out a handful of leaves. Slowly, Neil lay back down until his head touched the fabric of a folded jacket. Andrew’s jacket as Neil and Robin were still wearing their own. Robin kneeled down beside him and took the handful of leaves into her mouth. She chewed them a minute or so, then motioned for Neil to roll up his trouser leg. When he did so, he saw that on his knee, where he had been stung, such chewed leaves had been already placed. Robin removed the old ones and replaced them with the new ones. 

She repeated the action two more times for his cheek and neck. The lumps from the stings were almost invisible, she had probably done this the whole time he had slipped from nightmare to nightmare. Neil couldn’t help but ask, “Did I say anything weird when I was hallucinating?” Hopefully not, the effect could be catastrophic. He wouldn’t put it past his father to interrupt the Games just to retrieve him out of the arena. Or even better, join in the fun of hunting down his own son, all to the Capitol’s entertainment.

Robin gave him a funny look, glanced over her shoulder to Andrew, then said in a low voice, “You were only calling for Andrew and how much you need him, that you love him and that you could lie in his strong arms forever. He carried you all the way here by the way.”

“ _ What?! _ ” Neil couldn’t keep the horror out of his voice, even with all the rasping and coughing.

Suddenly Robin started to laugh which turned into a sheepish smile a moment later. “Just kidding. You didn’t say much between the moaning and coughing. But he did carry you, you know.”

Neil stared at her. What the hell? The timid, quiet girl had been gone for a moment and instead there had been a young girl, laughing at him and cracking a joke. An embarrassing one, but a joke nonetheless.

“We need food.” Andrew interrupted them as he shouldered a backpack. He let a knife slide out from beneath his armbands and looked over to them. “Try not to get killed while I’m gone.” He turned towards Robin. “You know the signal.”

She nodded and whistled a little four-note melody. A few seconds later the birds around them caught onto the tune and repeated it. Andrew turned to go and a sudden panic overcame Neil. He had only just found him!

“Wait!” he gritted out and tried to sit up, which he managed after a short struggle. Andrew stopped with a lifted eyebrow. “I’ll come with you.” Even as he said it, Neil knew he sounded pathetic. He probably couldn’t walk five meters without collapsing and making everything worse.

Andrew’s eyes slid over to Robin. “Tie him down if you have to. I’ll be back in an hour.”

They both watched him go, then resumed to silence. The birds around them sang Robin’s little song until they found something else again. “How long was I out?” Neil asked eventually. Robin shifted closer, knees tugged under her chin and head curiously tilted. Apparently she had lost her suspiciousness pretty fast, or she had never been suspicious of him in the first place.

“A little over a day.” They were quiet again, but her eyes never left Neil’s face. She looked at him like she was searching for something. After a while Neil had enough. “What?”

She winced at his snappish tone, but didn’t move away. “It’s nothing. We were just looking for you for so long, I think he’s really glad he found you now. Why didn’t you go with him?”

“How could I? I had no idea where he was.” What good would it have done anyway? He didn’t want to kill Andrew. He actually didn’t want to kill anyone. Nothing had changed, and yet Neil was relieved. Relieved Andrew had found him, relieved he wasn’t alone anymore. Robin only frowned, but said nothing.

Now, Neil was curious. Of all people, Andrew had chosen her. Neil was surprised Andrew had formed an alliance in the first place, but for it to be Robin she must be something special. He thought about her hint with the tracker-jacker nest and how she could leap from tree to tree like a bird.

“How did you end up with Andrew?” Her eyes got big before she started to fumble with her fingers nervously. It took her a moment, but then she said, “We ran into each other on the first day. The arena, it ends eventually. There is a cliff.” She looked down and forced her fingers apart. “He told me I needed to learn to defend myself. I told him I couldn’t, but that I was fast, I could run.” The tip of her tongue peeked out and she licked her lip. “He attacked me. Told me I should fight back or he would throw me off the cliff. He almost had me, but I shoved him away. And then he said he would help me, if I would help him find you.”

Neil stared at her, dumbfounded. Was she for real? Was Andrew for real? And Andrew had been looking for him since the first day?

“How did you track me down anyway?” It couldn’t be just coincidence that Andrew had found him in the nick of time or that Robin had pointed out the nest to him.

“You were really hard to find. Andrew only saw you running off into the woods after the countdown, so we tried following you while the bloodbath was still going on. We had to give up, though, you are really good in covering your tracks, you know.” When she said that, she had something akin to admiration in her eyes. “We almost ran into the Careers one time. That’s how we learned they were looking for you and Andrew. So Andrew decided to follow them, because he was sure you would run into them eventually.”

They had followed the Career Tributes without them even noticing. It didn’t surprise Neil that Robin was able to do so, she was practically one with the forest. But Andrew seemed to have a few hidden talents as well, which was… interesting.

“Everything else you probably know already. Come on.” She stood up and looked at him as if he should follow her. “There is a pond nearby. You may want to wash yourself. The boy from District 4 was still all over you when Andrew killed him. You look a little scary, we only could clean your face so much.” The dried blood on his skin was indeed unpleasant and made him suddenly keenly aware of the itching feeling all over. “I’ll just leave a few of those water lily petals here, so Andrew knows where we are.” They had a complete system worked out between them, Neil realized, stunned.

She scattered the petals then grabbed their backpacks which Neil took that as his cue to stand up. It took some effort and Robin’s supportive hand, but eventually he could follow her through the underbrush and to a little pond after a five minute walk.

Neil shed his boots, socks and the jacket and waded in the water. For a second he enjoyed the cool feeling over his feet then he sat down and started to scrub his hands and arms.

“I can go if you don’t want to strip in front of me,” Robin called from where she was sitting, her naked feet in the pond. “But I’ve seen a lot of naked men by now.”

Neil turned around to look at her, she was such a strange girl. “I think I’ve entertained Panem enough for a while now,” he said and motioned to where Robin’s leaves were still sticking to his skin and the burn on his cheek. He stood up and walked into the middle of the pond, where the water was the deepest and reached his chest. There he could duck his head underwater and also risk lifting his shirt to rub over his sweat coated belly and chest. When he surfaced again, Robin had stripped down to her undergarments and was splashing water around a few meters from him.

“Is it safe to let our guard down like this?” Neil asked her as she laid back and let her body float over the water, arms outstretched.

“It’s only us, the girl from 5, the boys from 3 and 10, Amal and three Careers left. The Careers are still on a bad trip because they don’t know how to extract the venom, so they won’t be back until tomorrow. I think the boys from 10 and 3 weren’t spared either from the tracker-jackers. I haven’t seen Amal around, and the girl from 5 won’t attack us.”

She had done her research. Neil couldn’t believe that while he had been running and constantly stumbling into trouble, Robin had had the time to spy on the other tributes. Andrew had done very well in making her his ally.

“How do you know about the leaves that extract the venom?” Neil knew there were plants that could help with tracker-jacker stings, but he had never been able to identify them. Around the districts were still many nests left from the war; the Capitol didn’t bother to remove them, not if they kept the residents in check. So if he came across a nest he usually changed direction. Robin floated over to him, eyes closed as she said, “We all carry them when we work in the orchards. They left a lot of nests there.”

“Right, you’re District 11. Agriculture,” Neil remembered. He also remembered the orchards. He had lived for a while in that district, but his mother had grabbed him soon to leave. Things were a lot stricter in District 11 than anywhere else. For instance, even though most of the food came from District 11, the people were not allowed to eat it. They didn’t just arrest people doing it, they would publicly whip them. And it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Neil had seen it happen more than once in his short time there.

For his hunting in District 12, Neil could be whipped on a daily basis, but the officials all ate his meat and the mayor didn’t have much taste for such violence put on display. Being the least prestigious, poorest, most ridiculed district in the country had its advantages, such as being largely ignored by the Capitol as long as they produced their coal quotas.

“During the harvest a lot of people get attacked,” Robin said. Neil nodded, he had heard about that.

Neil stayed for a few more minutes in the pond. He felt a lot better now, even his throat wasn’t hurting so much anymore. He still sounded like someone had strangled him, though. Robin watched him attentively when he returned to his jacket and warned her that he would try to get the worst of the blood out now. She left the water and stood in a spot where the sun broke through the forest canopy to dry. Even in the shadow of the trees it was getting hot, and Neil’s wet t-shirt was almost dry when he was done with the jacket. It was still dirty, there wasn’t much he could do about dried blood, but it was better than nothing. He splashed some water over his chest once more to cool down and then they set off to return to Andrew.

He was already there when Robin and Neil arrived, in the process of making a fire. He had a rabbit and some strange bird that looked like a small turkey lying next to him. Andrew looked up, took in Robin whose hair was still a little wet and then Neil. He stared and Neil could see his eye twitch a little. Something was pissing him off, as much Neil could tell about the otherwise expressionless Andrew already.

“You’re our hunting talent, so prepare the rabbit and turkey,” Andrew only said before returning to the task at hand.

Neil wordlessly cleaned the game and then showed Robin, who looked interested, how to pluck the bird. It wasn’t much bigger than a chicken, but it was plump and firm. Neil could see where Andrew’s knife had entered its body.

Andrew placed the rabbit and bird over the coals, and they sat around the fire while the sky turned slowly into a pale pink.

They didn’t talk, so Neil pressed his thumb against his lips and thought about what he had learned today. He wanted to ask Andrew so much, first of all why he had been looking for Neil. Why save him, one of them had to die in the end, and Andrew had every reason to make it out alive. Neil had no reason at all, only his promise to his mother which he had already broken before returning to the Capitol and an unwarranted will to live.

He glanced over to Robin. “What happens now that you’ve found me?” he finally asked.

Robin looked at him, then at Andrew. She had wondered about this, too.

“What do you think will happen?” Andrew asked right back. Neil shrugged. As long as the Careers were out there they were better off together. Three of the Careers, three of them. Andrew could most likely keep up with them, and now that Neil had a bow he wouldn’t have a problem with taking one or two down. Whether Robin could fight was uncertain, but she’d be a great decoy. “We should stay together,” he said. Andrew hummed at that and Robin looked up at Neil, hopeful.

“We should,” Andrew agreed. And so they sealed the deal. Of course, such an arrangement could only be temporary, but neither of them mentioned it. They still had a few bigger problems before worrying about the inevitable.

While the meat was still cooking they decided to check what each of them brought in terms of rations. Andrew and Robin had shared everything they had gathered so far, which included quite a collection of roots, nuts, greens and even some berries. Andrew had managed to get a backpack from the bloodbath with a few knives, a simple wool blanket, a one-liter water bottle and gloves. Robin carried one of Andrew’s knives, but told Neil she wasn’t sure how to use it and practice with Andrew went short in the arena. Neil added the last couple of crackers and beef strips to the pile. When he spread out his gear, Robin gasped a little when she saw the useless sunglasses.

“How did you get those?” she asked.

Neil pointed at his backpack. “I don’t really know what they are good for. In the forest there hasn’t been much sun so far.”

“You’re an idiot,” Andrew said and took the sunglasses out of his hands. “These aren’t for the sun, they’re for darkness.”

Robin nodded enthusiastically. “Sometimes, when we harvest through the night, they’ll pass out a few pairs to those of us highest in the trees, where the torchlight doesn’t reach.”

Neil took them back and turned them around in his hand. “So what do these do?”

“They let you see in complete darkness,” said Robin. “Try them when the sun goes down.”

Together they ate the bird and for a while all conversation stopped. Even now, Andrew would rip tiny bits off the flesh before putting it into his mouth while Robin and Neil just gnawed the meat from the bones. It was delicious and so fatty, the grease dripped down their faces.

Afterwards, Andrew wrapped the rabbit into a plastic foil and got up. He didn’t say anything, but Robin followed suit and so did Neil. She explained to Neil, while Andrew was gathering their things, “We’ll move and find a place to sleep.”

Neil nodded and soon they walked through the forest while the sun was setting slowly. Robin handed out a few sweet berries for them to eat and explained to Neil how he could differentiate them from the toxic berries that grew all around.

When it was almost nightfall, Andrew stopped.

“Where do you sleep?” Neil asked Robin. “In the trees?” She nodded. Then he thought about the single wool blanket and how he couldn’t picture Andrew and her sharing it. Before he could say anything, Robin beat him to it. “Andrew stays on the ground, though.”

“What? Why?” He turned to Andrew who was inspecting the ground in front of a big willow. He didn’t pay any attention to them, so Neil walked over to him. “This is stupid, we all should—”

“I won’t sleep in a tree,” Andrew said. They regarded each other until Neil asked with a huff, “What about the blanket? The night’s fucking cold.”

“Keeps me awake for the watch.” Neil had to process that first. He blinked, then glanced to Robin who was staring at the ground and shuffling nervously around.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

With a dismissive gesture Andrew said, “Last night.” Neil clicked his tongue. “I mean longer than a few minutes.” Silence. They stared each other down until Neil threw his hands up in surrender, as they were both stubborn and no one would budge. Usually, Neil was very good with the silent treatment; he could outwait just about anyone. But Andrew was on a whole new level, he had no problem sitting in complete silence during a live interview with the most persistent TV host in the country.

“Fine! You know what? We all stay on the ground. I can share with Robin.” He pulled his sleeping bag out, someone as small as Robin would have no problem fitting in with him.

“What are you doing?” Andrew asked through gritted teeth when Neil laid the sleeping bag out and Robin slipped in without further question. Neil gave Andrew a cool look. “You can take the first watch. Wake me when you fall asleep.”

A beat of silence then, “I hate you.”

Neil shook his head. “I don’t care.”

He was lying back to back with Robin, just as he always had with his mother. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed this, the simple human contact of feeling someone breathe beside him. How safe it felt. The only thing missing was the gun his mother had stolen from his father and given to him. Guns were only carried by Peacekeepers, so they had had to hide it. Neil was an excellent shooter, therefore his mother had allowed him to keep the gun under his pillow. He had lost it the same day he had lost her.

Andrew was leaning against the tree trunk, just like when Neil had come around again this morning. In the dark, Neil couldn’t see much but his silhouette. Slowly, as not to wake up Robin whose breath had evened out a few minutes ago, Neil pulled the backpack closer and fished out the glasses. He slipped them on and Robin had not been kidding. He could see everything, from the leaves on the trees to a skunk strolling through the bushes a good fifteen meters away. Neil could kill it from here, if he had the mind to do it. He could kill anything.

He looked to Andrew who was no longer a silhouette. He was sitting there with the blanket around his shoulders and a knife in his hand.

“You know, I could use those glasses much better, since I am the one on watch and all.” He wasn’t even looking Neil’s way.

Caught, Neil put the glasses down. After a moment he wiggled out of the sleeping bag which woke Robin up, but after Neil’s reassurance that everything was fine, she fell asleep again. With the glasses he walked over to Andrew and offered them to him. After a moment of consideration, Andrew took them and slipped them on. He could see Neil now, exposed and vulnerable, while Andrew was nothing but a shadow in the poor moonlight.

Neil had many questions he wanted to ask him. But none of them were suited for the prying ears of the audience. Neil was pretty sure they were on screen right now, no deaths had occurred today and the most bloodthirsty tributes were still struggling with hallucinations and nightmares.

“I want to ask you something,” he admitted. He was still standing while Andrew peered up to him from his place against the trunk.

“Is it even your turn?” Andrew asked. Neil didn’t know. Too much had happened since their last turn of this game. He bit his lip, and Andrew said, “Come closer.”

Hesitantly, Neil crouched down in front of him. Suddenly, Andrew reached out and pulled Neil forward. He almost lost balance, but Andrew stopped him just as they were cheek to cheek. Neil felt Andrew’s breath ghosting over his ear when he whispered, “Ask.”

It was oddly intimate, to be so close, but it was the only way for the cameras to not catch them. Neil even took the precaution of covering his lips. “Why were you looking for me?”

The second the question left Neil’s mouth, Andrew was leaning away from him. The cold air left goose bumps where Andrew’s cheek had just been. Neil could hardly make his expression out, but his voice was back to a normal volume as he said, “Maybe I’m not as smart as I thought I was.” Neil took the hint and also sat back, apparently Andrew didn’t care if the audience was listening to this. So why should Neil?

“That’s hardly an answer.”

“Then don’t ask stupid questions. Now let me ask you a question, Neil. Why can’t you ever do as you are told?”

Neil was lost. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I told you to follow me. But you did your little rabbit thing where you run mindlessly in a direction and straight into trouble. Are you really that stupid?”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about!” Neil’s voice rose in his anger, Andrew’s accusations were really getting old now.

“Ah, but you really don’t.” There was almost some kind of amusement in his voice, barely noticeable if one didn’t know how a truly bored Andrew sounded. “Before the gong, Neil,” he said. “I told you to follow me. You stared at me with your idiotic blue eyes like you didn’t know what to do. I told you to follow me.”

And Neil remembered. Andrew mouthing something. Neil wondering about it. How his body had been already moving before he could even think about it.

“I didn’t understand,” he murmured, more to himself than to Andrew.

“No, you didn’t. Now go away.” Andrew dismissed him with a flick of his hand and Neil actually obeyed. His mind occupied with this revelation, he slipped back into the sleeping bag with Robin. She woke at the cold he brought with him, but not for long. Neil followed her a while later, turning around the thought in his head, that if he had just understood Andrew, he could have saved himself a lot of trouble.

And Andrew didn’t wake him for watch at all.

 

The next morning they talked about their biggest problem at hand, the remaining Careers.

They prepared a small breakfast from plants Neil and Robin gathered from around their camp and compared them before eating. Neil thought he had found some blueberries, but when Robin squashed one between her thumb and index finger, its flesh was a bloody red.

“Those are highly toxic, you would be dead before it could even reach your stomach,” she explained.

Neil was even gladder to have her as his ally now.

When they sat in a loose circle, eating berries, nuts and greens, Neil asked Robin, “How much longer do you think the Careers will be out?”

“A few hours maybe. When you were hallucinating I did some scouting. They made it back to their base camp by the lake before they collapsed from the stingers.” She cracked a nut open and turned it over in her hand, examining it. “They’ve got everything down there. And they’re so strong.”

“We’re strong too,” Neil said. “Just in a different way.”

“You are. Andrew can probably kill three men with a butter knife and he told me you can shoot,” Robin said. “What can I do?”

“You can feed yourself,” Andrew suddenly chimed in. “Can they?”

“They don’t need to. They have all those supplies,” Robin said.

Andrew looked at her, cocking his head. “Say they didn’t. Say the supplies were gone. How long would they last?”

Slowly, Neil understood what Andrew was getting at. He smiled. A weaker version of his father’s smile, but it felt horrible nonetheless. “It’s called the Hunger Games after all, right?”

Robin eyed them doubtfully. “But they’re not hungry.”

“No, they’re not. That’s the problem,” Neil agreed. And for the first time since the Games had started, Neil felt like he had a plan. They had a plan. A plan that wasn’t motivated by the need for flight and evasion. An offensive plan. His smile grew. “I think we’re going to have to fix that.”

While they finished their breakfast, Neil thought about the execution of their plan. The idea was simple enough; somehow they had to find a way to destroy the Careers’ food. Neil was pretty sure feeding themselves would be a tremendous struggle. Traditionally, the Career Tributes’ strategy was to get hold of all food early on and work from there. The years when they had not been protected well – one year a pack of hideous reptiles had destroyed it – those were usually the years that tributes from other districts had won. That the Careers had been better fed growing up was actually to their disadvantage, because they didn’t know how to be hungry. Not the way Neil and Robin did. Andrew was a whole other story. For District 12 circumstances Andrew was pretty well-off. The baker was a decent man, and Neil knew from Nicky that they were usually allowed to take a loaf of fresh bread home. But Andrew had not lived his whole life as a baker’s assistant, in fact Neil had no idea how Andrew had lived his life, except for the tiny bits he had offered. He had never had a real home, and Neil could understand that.

Still, Neil didn’t doubt Andrew would know how to survive, even without Robin. And if it was only for the fact that he was too stubborn to not to.

“Ready to do it?” Andrew interrupted Neil’s thoughts as he stood in front of him, prepared to leave.

Robin exchanged a look with Neil and asked, “Do what?”

“Today we take out the Careers’ food,” Neil said without breaking eye contact with Andrew.

“Really? How?” There was a glint of excitement in her eyes, and Neil had no idea how he had ever thought of the girl as timid. The way she bounced up, it was apparent she was up for whatever Andrew would propose.

Andrew shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out while Neil hunts and we watch him.”

And indeed, Neil was tasked to go hunting while Robin gave Andrew every bit of information she had about the Careers’ camp. Neil didn’t get much hunting done, though, because he was too busy listening to them.

Robin had only spied on them briefly, but she was observant. They had set up their camp beside the lake. Their supply stash was about thirty meters away, and during the day they had been leaving another tribute, the boy from District 10, to watch over the supplies.

“The boy from District 10?” Neil asked. “He’s working with them?” Of course he would, he seemed to be the type.

“Eyes on the game, Josten,” Andrew reminded him and Neil rolled his eyes, but returned to his position. He was perched on a tree, bow tensed and watching for movement.

“Yes, but not only him. The boy from 3 is also often around. He is not very big though and doesn’t know how to use a weapon.”

“What about Ten?” Andrew asked. “What weapons does he have?”

“I think a sword, I couldn’t see more,” Robin said.

“And the food’s just out in the open?” Neil asked, attention back on the others. Andrew pointed a warning finger at him, but Neil ignored him. “Something’s not quite right about that whole set-up.”

“I know. But I couldn’t tell what exactly,” Robin agreed. She tugged at a strand of her thick, black hair. “Even if you could get to the food, how would you get rid of it?” She was looking at Andrew who was staring somewhere off into the distance.

His voice was toneless as ever when he finally said, “Burn it. Dump it in the lake. Soak it in fuel.” He watched Neil as he sent an arrow through a small turkey’s neck. “Eat it.” With a considering look to Robin he added, “Don’t worry. Destroying things is much easier than making them.”

For a while, Andrew and Robin dug roots, gathered berries and greens and devised a strategy, while Neil changed his positions a few times to shoot another bird and sometimes called ideas down to them, which earned him a warning look from Andrew who wanted him to concentrate.

Neil also came to know Robin a little better. She was an only child, sheltered, bordering on overprotected by her parents after an incident in her childhood she didn’t want to talk about.

When Neil asked her what she liked to do back home, she said, of all things, “Reading!”

“Reading?” Neil said. He was a little surprised they were allowed to read for fun in District 11 at all. “You have a lot of time for that?”

“My teacher always lets me read one of her books during the break. I like the animal stories the best. My favorite one is the one with the fox and the wolf,” she said. “That’s why I like your pin.” She pointed at his fox paw and smiled. “In the story the wolf is really bad and the fox has to suffer through the wolf’s violence. But in the end the fox outwits him and the wolf is beaten to death.” She was positively delighted by that, and the story hit uncomfortably close to home, so Neil could somehow see the appeal.

By lunch they had a plan. By early afternoon, they were poised to carry it out. Andrew and Neil helped Robin collect and place the wood for the first two campfires; the third she would have time for on her own.

They decided to meet afterwards at the site where she and Neil had taken their bath yesterday. Before Andrew and Neil left, they made sure Robin was well stocked with food and matches, and Andrew wordlessly shoved the wool blanket in her backpack, in case it was not possible to rendezvous by nightfall.

“Okay, then. If all goes according to plan, we’ll see you for dinner,” Neil said. Robin saluted a lazy two fingers salute that made Andrew give her a bored, unimpressed look. She responded to it with an impish grin that reminded Neil of her little joke after he had just woken up and also of Renee for some reason.

“Be careful,” she said to them.

“Shut up,” Andrew said. They turned and headed back to a stream they had followed earlier.

Neil felt worried. About Robin and Andrew being killed, about Robin and Andrew being not killed and the three of them being left for last, about leaving Robin alone. He hadn’t realized he had started biting his lip again until Andrew told him to stop.

“Why? Because it’s distracting? What does that even mean?” he asked in a twinge of carelessness. When Andrew said nothing, Neil turned his head to look at him. “What? No smart comment? Well, I heard you’re a little uncommunicative.”

He caught Andrew side-eying him and when Andrew realized that Neil had noticed he said, “You’re so incredibly stupid.” Neil rolled his eyes. “Can you say anything else besides that?”

“I don’t know, can you stop being a dense idiot and shut your mouth?”

Neil glared at Andrew, but he simply ignored it and soon they fell into silence.

Their proximity to the Careers’ camp sharpened Neil’s senses, and the closer they got to them, the more guarded they were. Andrew paused frequently to listen for unnatural sounds, a knife in his hand while Neil had an arrow already fitted into the string of his bow. There were no other tributes, though, and soon they arrived at the best spying place near the lake, according to Robin. Neil had to admire her cleverness. It was right at the edge of the wood, but the bushy foliage was so thick down low, they could easily observe the Career camp without being spotted. Between that spot and the camp lay the meadow where the Games had begun.

There were five tributes. The raven-haired girl from District 1, Gorilla and Leverett from District 2, Jack from District 10, and a scrawny, ashen-skinned boy who must be from District 3. Neil couldn’t remember a single thing about him. He was easily overseen by the presence of his large and domineering companions. Neil wondered why exactly they had left him alive, and this question only added to his sense of unease over why the Careers would possibly leave him with their supplies.

All five of them seemed to still be recovering from the tracker-jacker attack. Even from here, Neil could see the large, swollen lumps on their bodies. Apparently, whatever medicines they had found in the Cornucopia had been ineffective.

The Cornucopia sat in its original position, but its insides had been picked clean. Most of the supplies, held in crates, burlap sacks and plastic bins, were piled neatly in a pyramid in what seemed a questionable distance from the camps. Others were sprinkled around the perimeter of the pyramid, almost mimicking the layout of supplies around the Cornucopia at the onset of the Games. A canopy of netting that, aside from discouraging birds, seemed to be useless, sheltered the pyramid itself.

The whole set-up was completely perplexing. The distance, the netting, and the presence of the District 3 boy. One thing was for sure, destroying those supplies was not going to be as simple as it looked.

Neil glanced over to Andrew who was actually watching the scene in front of him, and not in his usual indifferent manner, but thoughtfully. The sight made Neil’s heart jump, this was a completely new look on Andrew. Who knew what he was capable of if he was actually interested?

Neil bit his lip. His guess was the pyramid was booby-trapped in some manner. He thought of concealed pits, descending nets, a thread that when broken would send a poisonous dart into his heart. Really, the possibilities were endless.

While he was mulling over their options and watching Andrew watch the happenings in the camp, he heard Gorilla shout out. He was pointing up to the woods, far beyond Andrew and Neil, and without turning, Neil knew that Robin must have set the first campfire. They had made sure to gather enough green wood to make the smoke noticeable.

The Careers began to arm themselves at once. They took the boy from 3 with them, but Jack stayed behind while they headed off in the direction of the fire. The last thing Neil heard as they entered the woods was Gorilla saying, “When we find the little squirrel, I kill him in my own way, and no one interferes.”

Apparently he had taken the tracker-jacker attack pretty badly. Neil didn’t want to think about what a big guy like Gorilla could do to him.

When Neil was sure the Careers were out of hearing distance, he whispered, “What now?” and pointed at Jack playing around with his sword.

Andrew grabbed for Neil’s neck, just like he had done during the opening ceremonies, pulling him a little closer. “You stay here. Think about something,” he nodded in the pyramid’s direction. “I’ll take care of him.”

Neil could only nod before Andrew was slipping away. Now, Neil could really not stop chewing his lip. His eyes returned to the supplies, but ever so often he caught himself watching Jack with the sword and hoping Andrew would return soon.

Neil was so preoccupied with watching out for Andrew and contemplating if he should leave his cover to go closer and see if he could discover what exactly protected the supplies, he almost missed someone emerging from the woods.

For a second Neil thought it was Robin, but then he recognized the sly girl from District 5 creeping out on the plain. When she decided it was safe, she ran for the pyramid from behind, so she was hidden from Jack’s view through the pyramid itself, with quick, small steps. Just before she reached the circle of supplies that had been littered around the pyramid, she stopped, searched the ground, and carefully placed her feet on a spot. Then she began to approach the pyramid with strange little hops, sometimes landing on one foot, teetering slightly, sometimes risking a few steps. She continued this until she reached the bulk of supplies.

So, Neil was right about the booby-trap, but it was clearly more complex than he had imagined.

The District 5 girl filled her pack, taking a few items from a variety of containers, but only a handful from each, not enough to tip off that the food was missing. And then she was doing her odd little dance back out of the circle and scampering into the woods again.

Neil chewed on his bottom lip. What sort of trap had they laid that required such dexterity? Had so many trigger points?

And slowly it began to dawn on Neil.

“It’s mined,” someone whispered into his ear, and Neil whirled around, ready to attack or defend, he wasn’t sure yet. Andrew caught his wrist with ease.

“Nice try,” he said flatly. Neil blinked, then immediately took in Andrew’s appearance. He seemed unharmed and Neil tried to find Jack from where he stood, but there was no sign of him.

“He’s dead, Neil.” In that moment the cannon fired, and Neil saw the blood on Andrew’s fingers, where they were still clasped around his wrist. Andrew noticed it too and instantly let go. They didn’t say much more about it, and turned back to look at the literal minefield in front of them.

“That explains why they are keeping the boy from District 3,” Neil said. District 3 was known for their technology development, they made televisions, automobiles and explosives.

“How resourceful,” Andrew muttered and slipped out of the bushes. Neil followed him and they crossed to one of the round metal plates that had lifted the tributes into the arena. The ground around it had been dug up and patted back down.

“Aren’t the landmines disabled after the sixty seconds?” Neil asked puzzled.

“Three must have managed to reactivate them,” Andrew said.

Well, that was great for the boy from 3, but what were they supposed to do now? Obviously, they couldn’t just go strolling into the mess without blowing themselves sky-high. Neil went through the facts in his head. The mines were set off by pressure, and it didn’t have to be a lot.

“How’s your arm?” Neil asked Andrew. Andrew stared at him, waiting for an explanation. “We could chuck some rocks in there. That would set them off, right?”

“What? Maybe two mines? You’re hoping for a chain reaction. What if Three placed them in a way that a single mine won’t disturb the others? Also there’s the net.” Yes, the apparently useless net that would deflect any such attack. And they couldn’t possibly throw thirty rocks in there at once, to set off a big enough chain reaction anyway.

Neil glanced back up at the woods. The smoke from Robin’s second fire was wafting towards the sky. By now, the Careers had probably begun to suspect some sort of trick. Time was running out.

“Neil,” Andrew interrupted his musing. Neil turned towards him and blinked at Andrew’s intense stare. “How good is your aim?”

Neil shrugged. “Good enough, I guess?” He followed Andrew’s outstretched finger that was pointing at something on the pyramid. It took Neil a second, but then his eyes caught onto a burlap bag of apples. He could sever the rope in one shot. It was a big bag, but it still might be only good for one explosion. He needed to free the apples themselves.

Neil knew what to do.

He moved into range and gave himself three arrows to get the job done. He placed his feet carefully, blocking out the rest of the world as he was taking meticulous aim, when suddenly he felt hands being pressed over his ears.

Neil nearly jumped ten meters in the air and turned around, heart beating like he had just run a marathon. Andrew stood behind him, waiting for Neil to calm down. Before Neil could say anything, Andrew cut in, “You do know we’re aiming for an explosion here, right? And stupid and deaf you’re really no use to anyone.”

Stunned, Neil could only nod and resumed his original position. Andrew stationed himself behind Neil in a way that wouldn’t disturb his shooting too much and covered Neil’s ears.

The first arrow tore through the side of the bag near the top, leaving a split in the burlap. The second widened it to a gaping hole. Neil could see the first apple teetering, and when he let the third arrow go, that would catch the torn flap of burlap and rip it from the bag, he realized no one was protecting Andrew’s ears.

For a moment, everything seemed frozen in time. Then the apples spilled to the ground and Neil was blown backwards into the air.

 

The impact with the hard-packed earth knocked the wind out of Neil. The bow was still locked into his grasp and fortunately, the quiver had caught in the crook of his elbow, sparing both itself and his shoulder. The ground still shook with explosions. His ears were ringing, but he could faintly hear them.

Neil managed to shield his face with his arms as shattered bits of matter, some of it burning, rained down on him. An acrid smoke filled the air, which was really not the best remedy for someone trying to regain the ability to breathe.

After about a minute, the ground stopped vibrating. Neil rolled on his side and almost screamed from the pain flaring up in his back. He couldn’t do much more but rasp, though, his throat still so sore. After the pain receded a little, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at the sight of the smoldering wreckage that had been the pyramid.

Then, at once, Neil remembered Andrew. Frantically, he looked around and saw him lying on the ground not so far away. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the hot white pain in his back, but once he stood he realized walking might not be so simple. He was dizzy, could hardly walk straight, so he dropped to his knees and crawled towards Andrew who had rolled onto his side and was watching Neil approach.

The second he reached Andrew, he knew something was wrong. There was blood seeping from Andrew’s ear, and the few times he tried to get up ended with him on his back again. There was a raw anger in his eyes. He was apparently much worse off than Neil, his hands had actually saved Neil’s ability to hear while something was clearly not alright with him himself.

They had to get out of here. The Careers would make a beeline for the place.

Neil waited a few minutes, then gritted his teeth and stood up. He panted heavily, his back felt like someone had hit it repeatedly with a bat. Were his ribs broken, he would probably feel it, though.

The ringing in his ears was still prominent and talking didn’t make much sense now, so Neil pointed at Andrew’s arm and made a movement he hoped Andrew would understand. Andrew just stared at him, but after what felt like eternity he nodded. The anger was now creeping from his eyes into his facial expressions.

When Neil helped Andrew get up, he had to support himself against Neil with his full weight, and Neil escaped a whimper at the stress it put on his back. He tugged at Andrew’s hood, then pointed at Andrew’s ear.  _ No blood trails _ . Andrew understood and pulled the hood over his head; that should soak up the blood.

They were painfully slow. If they could only make it back to Robin’s spying spot and conceal themselves in the greenery. If they were caught out here, injured and barely able to stand, they would not only face death, but a long and painful one at Gorilla’s hands.

To say they made it in the nick of time was an understatement. Neil had literally just dragged Andrew into the tangle of bushes at the base of the trees when there was Gorilla, barreling into the meadow, soon followed by his companions.

His rage was so extreme it was almost funny – so people really did tear out their hair and beat the ground with their fists – if Neil didn’t know that it was aimed at him, at what he had done. Add to that his and Andrew’s proximity, their inability to run or defend themselves, and in fact, the whole thing was terrifying. Kevin was probably drinking himself into a stupor right now, watching not only Neil almost getting himself killed, but Andrew right along.

The boy from District 3 threw stones into the ruins and must have declared all mines activated, because the Careers were approaching the wreckage. Gorilla had finished the first phase of his tantrum and took out his anger on the smoking remains by kicking open various containers. The other tributes were poking around in the mess, looking for anything to salvage, but there was nothing. The boy from District 3 had done his job too well.

This idea must have occurred  to Gorilla too, because he turned on the boy and appeared to be shouting at him. The boy from District 3 only had time to turn and run before Gorilla caught him in a headlock from behind. Neil could see the muscles ripple in Gorilla’s arms as he sharply jerked the boy’s head to the side.

It was that quick. The death of the boy from District 3.

Gorilla shouted something at the girls from 1 and 2, and they took their weapons and followed him back into the woods. They weren’t anywhere near Andrew’s and Neil’s position, but Neil didn’t want to risk anything. Not with Andrew bleeding and both in no condition to fight. 

It took Neil over two hours, but eventually he found a small stream that was running through the woods. It was more due to luck than judgment that they hadn’t run into any Careers. Neil guided Andrew to a rock, then filled his water bottle and gave it to him to drink. The ringing in his ear had faded away a while ago, but when he asked Andrew he shook his head. “I can’t hear anything with my left ear.”

Neil said nothing, his concern wouldn’t be appreciated anyway. Instead he cut a piece from his jacket, wetted it and waited for Andrew to acknowledge him. He held up the damp cloth and asked, “Can I look at your ear?”

It was already evident how Andrew was trying to compensate for his hearing loss. He turned his right side to Neil to hear him better. Why couldn’t he have protected his own damn ears?! Eventually, Andrew nodded his consent, and Neil sat down beside him to wash the blood off. At least it had stopped bleeding.

They allowed themselves to rest for an hour, ate a bit of rabbit and Neil’s remaining crackers. They shared the water and before leaving, filled it up again. Neither of them knew which way to go for the rendezvous point with Robin, but Neil knew how to reach the spot of the third campfire Robin had used to lure the Careers away. From there he could probably lead them straight to the pond.

It took them less than an hour to reach the campfire, and the sun was slowly preparing to set over their heads.

Neil instantly knew something had gone amiss. The wood had been neatly arranged, expertly interspersed with tinder, but it had never been lit. Robin had set up the fire but had never made it back here.

That was when Neil heard the screaming.

“Neil! Andrew!” It was Robin.

Next to him, Andrew turned his head; he was hearing it as well.

“Andrew! Help!” She was desperate, and Neil immediately set out into a sprint. He knew Andrew would follow him, albeit slower, but there was no time to wait for him. He broke through the underbrush, following Robin’s shouts. It could be a trap, the Careers could await him behind every tree, but Neil didn’t care.

“Neil! Neil!”

“Robin!” he shouted back, so she knew he was near. So,  _ they _ knew he was near, and hopefully they would leave Robin alone, for the boy who had attacked them with tracker jackers and got an eleven they still couldn’t explain.

When he broke into a clearing, she was on the ground, hopelessly entangled in a net.

“Neil!” she called out, relief all over her voice. Neil crouched down by her side and freed her with his knife. He grabbed her arm and helped her up, while she was still shaking. Swiftly, he patted her down to check for any injuries when suddenly he heard a crack behind him, and Robin’s eyes went wide in shock.

It took Neil only a second to determine his opponent’s height, weight and location, before he ducked from the spear pitched at him and threw his knife right between Leverett’s eyes. She fell over without even making sound, except for the dull thud of her body hitting the ground.

Neil turned back to Robin who stood motionless before him, eyes cast downwards. Neil followed her line of sight and watched her blankly pulling the spear out of her chest. He caught her when her legs gave in and sunk to his knees with her in his arms. A rustling from Neil’s right made him twist around, bow and arrow ready, but it was only Andrew.

Neil looked back to Robin, with her head in his lap and a wound that was far beyond Neil’s capacity to heal. Beyond anyone’s, probably.

There was no point in comforting words, in telling her she would be all right. She was no fool. Her hand reached out and Neil clutched it like a lifeline.

“You blew up the food?” she whispered, eyes slowly wandering from Neil to Andrew who was crouched beside them now.

“Every last bit,” Andrew said.

“Good.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “You have to win.” There was no telling who she meant. Her eyes went unfocused for a second but came back the next.

Neil heard a cannon and looked up. It must be for Leverett.

“Don’t go.” Robin tightened her grip on Neil’s hand.

“‘Course not. Staying right here,” Neil said. He gently brushed the dark, thick hair behind her ear.

“A story,” she said, but barely brought out the words.

A story? Neil didn’t know any stories. His throat tightened, he was still hoarse from the hands around his neck and the smoke from the explosions.

But this was Robin’s last request, he had to at least try.

He coughed, swallowed hard and then began, “Once upon a time there was a… fox.” He thought about her favorite story, the one with the fox and the wolf. “The fox was all alone in this world, there were no other foxes anywhere. But a pack of bloodthirsty wolves roamed the forest of the fox. They hunted him and wanted to kill him, just like his mother before him.” He was really bad at this.

“One time the fox had been trapped by the wolves, he had no way out and knew he would die.” Robin’s eyes had fluttered shut. Her chest moved, but only slightly. Neil knew he wouldn’t cry, he couldn’t. But his voice got rougher as he continued the story. “But then a little fox appeared. She was so much smaller than the wolves, but she was also not alone. With her came another fox, a grumpy one. And with the grumpy one came several other foxes. An old fox, a cheery fox, a sullen fox and many more. They saved the fox from the wolves and suddenly the fox realized he wasn’t alone anymore.”

Everything was still and quiet.

For a moment, Andrew and Neil just sat there. Then Robin’s cannon fired.

Neil leaned forward and zipped her jacket up, so the spear wound was hidden under it. Slowly, as if not to wake her, he laid her head back on the ground and released her hand. They wanted them to clear out now, so they could collect the bodies. And there was nothing to stay for.

Andrew stood up first. He retrieved Neil’s knife, then rolled Leverett’s body onto her face and took her pack. Neil cut Robin’s pack from her back as well, carefully he pulled it from beneath her body. He couldn’t stop looking at her. She was smaller than ever, killed for nothing but the sake of killing.

“We need to go,” Andrew said into the silence. Neil thought about his mother, nothing but burned bones. No one even knew she was dead, except for him. He had just disposed her bones into the sand; they were probably long gone now, taken by the sea.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave Robin like this. Past harm, but seeming utterly defenseless. He couldn’t even hate Leverett for it, she was now dead, too. It was the Capitol he hated, for doing this, and then watching it, betting on it.

“No,” Neil said. “Not yet.”

A few steps into the woods grew a bank of wild flowers. Perhaps they were really weeds of some sort, but they had blossoms in beautiful shades of violet and yellow and white. Neil gathered up an armful and came back to Robin’s side. Under Andrew’s watchful eye, Neil decorated her body slowly, one stem at a time, in the flowers. He covered the blood that had seeped through the jacket. Wreathed her face. Weaved her hair with bright colors. And lastly, he pinned his orange fox paw on her jacket, right over her heart.

He stepped back at Andrew’s side and took a last look at Robin. She could really just be asleep like this.

Neil had seen many customs in his years changing districts. What had surprised him was that the poorer districts, 10, 11, and 12 shared one gesture at funerals. It was the silent goodbye for a beloved person. He pressed the three middle fingers of his left hand against his lips and held them out in her direction. Then they walked away without looking back.

“Do you feel better now?” Andrew asked.

“No,” Neil admitted. “But I would feel better if I could carve out every single one of their livers and feed it right back to them.” He meant the Capitol’s people, his father, President Moriyama, Riko. And Andrew understood. He understood Neil wasn’t talking about the other tributes. At length Andrew smiled, slow and cold. It was the first time Neil had ever see him smile, and he couldn’t help but stare.

“Now it’s getting fun,” Andrew said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robin's favorite story is from One Thousand and One Nights btw. I'm sure no one cares about this tho hahaha  
> Uhm I listened a lot to The Hunger Games soundtrack while writing this, espescially to [Healing Katniss](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5kfPFBRy6M) and [Rue's Farewell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ccTnDeJB2Y)


	8. Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I have to thank you beautiful people so much! I didn't expect such a positive response to this fic. I love you all.  
> Have another chapter of Andrew and Neil going through some shit!

Without any actual destination, they walked in a random direction. Their feet wandered this way and that until sunset. Neither said a word. Neil wasn’t really afraid, not even watchful, which made him an easy target. Except that he had Andrew walking right beside him, and they both would kill anyone they met on sight. 

Neil couldn’t bring himself to feel anything. He expected his hands to tremble, or some kind of reaction, since he had just killed someone with a knife. Right between her eyes. He remembered the lessons with Lola, how she had shown him how to throw, where to hit and cut, how he could assess the weight, height and position of his target without even looking. Thankfully, he and his mother had left before they moved on to actual living targets, but his mother had made sure he didn’t forget anything.

No one crossed their path. There weren’t many tributes left, and it was a big arena. Soon the Gamemakers would be pulling out some device to force them all together. However, for today there had been enough gore to satisfy the audience. It wasn’t until Neil rolled his sleeping bag out besides Andrew, who again took up position against a tree, that the silence was broken.

“You are unpredictable as you are unreal,” Andrew said, throwing the knife he had retrieved from Leverett’s body in the air and catching it by the handle again. He pointed the tip at Neil. “Care to share with the class?”

Neil couldn’t help but glance up in the trees where probably dozens of cameras were placed. He wasn’t about to give  _ them _ another piece of him, but he wanted to tell Andrew for some weirdly impulsive reason. “My mother, she… showed me a few tricks.” It was only half of the truth, and Andrew certainly knew as much. But he also knew Neil couldn’t elaborate with all of Panem watching them, so he accepted Neil’s explanation for now.

“What about your ear?” Neil asked, still hoping for some sort of improvement that implied Andrew wouldn’t be forever deaf in his left ear. Andrew shook his head. “Still the same.”

It was guilt, Neil realized. What he felt just now was incredible guilt over Andrew’s condition. How could it be that Andrew was constantly looking out for him, while Neil had done nothing but give Andrew trouble and a deafened ear?

“Don’t give me that look, fox boy.” Neil, who had opened his mouth to say as much, closed it again. “What look?” he asked instead.

“You just wanted to say something stupid. Don’t waste your breath, no one wants to hear your pathetic stammering.”

And he had done it again. Somehow Andrew knew exactly how to get a rise out of Neil. He closed his eyes and tried to count backwards from 100, but at 97 he still spat an angry “Fuck you” out. Andrew said nothing, only sat there with his back against the tree trunk and the wool blanket around his shoulders. They fell into silence again, until a faint beeping interrupted it and a silver parachute floated down, right in front of Neil’s feet. 

A gift from a sponsor. 

But why now? Both, Andrew and Neil, were in fairly good shape with supplies. Maybe it was something to help Andrew with his ear?

Neil walked over to Andrew and sat down beside him before opening the parachute. Inside was a small loaf of bread, this time without a note attached. It wasn’t the fine, white Capitol bread, but made of dark ration grain and shaped in a crescent, sprinkled with seeds.

“It’s from District 11,” Andrew said. Neil looked at him, surprised. What must it have cost the people of District 11, who couldn’t even feed themselves? How many would have had to do without to scrape up a coin to put in the collection for this one loaf? It had been meant for Robin, surely. But instead of pulling the gift when she had died, they had authorized Wymack to give it to Andrew and Neil. A thank you? Or because, like Andrew and Neil, they didn’t like to let debts go unpaid? For whatever reason, this had to be a first. A district gift to not only one, but two tributes from another district.

Cautiously, Neil lifted the still-warm loaf to his nose. It smelled delicious. He held it under Andrew’s nose as well, and the other boy actually took a smell at it. Roland’s words echoed through Neil’s head again. He was not alone. Not even in the arena.

He left the bread with Andrew and stood up. With his face lifted, he stepped into the last falling rays of sunlight. “Thank you, to the people of District 11,” he said. He wanted them to know they knew where it had come from. That the full value of their gift had been recognized.

Neil returned to Andrew. On his way he snatched his sleeping bag and wrapped it around himself as he sat back down again. Their shoulders brushed against each other, and Andrew wordlessly handed him a piece of the bread. For a while they sat like that, watching as dusk gave way to nightfall. Soon the seal lit up and the anthem played. Neil noticed how Andrew turned his hearing ear away from it and bit back a smile. Leverett’s face flashed over the sky, the boy from District 3, Jack from 10 and finally Robin. Neil had killed one of them. Andrew, too.

Six were left. Only six.

“How did you know the bread was from 11?” Neil asked suddenly. It was a question for the question’s sake; he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. And he was also a little curious.

Andrew tucked the leftover bread in his backpack and said without looking up, “I’m a baker.” As if that would answer Neil’s question.

“So you know about every type of bread from the Capitol to 12?” Andrew pointed a finger at him in silent confirmation. Neil considered this. “What’s your favorite bread?”

“Are you seriously trying to lure me into a conversation about bread, just because I happen to be a baker?”

With a sheepish grin, Neil shrugged. “What else is there to talk about?”

“Nothing.” Neil didn’t have to see the flat look Andrew was giving him right now to know it was there.

He hummed and decided to give up if Andrew was so unwilling. He laid out his sleeping bag again, this time he stayed by Andrew’s side, though. While Andrew had his back to the trunk, Neil set his place right next to it, so his back would be to Andrew. When he slipped inside the bag, however, he turned around to face Andrew. It was uncomfortable to present his back so outright to the open, but Neil was also positive Andrew would warn him, should something happen behind him.

“What are you doing?” Andrew asked after a while of watching Neil watching Andrew. 

“I’m waiting for you to lie down. You should sleep.”

“Leave it, Josten.”

“Not until you sleep.”

Something hit Neil’s face. A small lump of muddy earth. “Shut your mouth now, or the next one is going to be a rock.”

Neil snorted. “Try your head, it’s thick enough.” Another earth lump hit him on the cheek. With a sigh he turned around, back to Andrew and eyes into the dark woods. He thought about Robin’s even breathing next to him, the tiny smiles she would sometimes carry and her excitement when Neil could teach her something new, or the other way around. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of Robin, still decked in her flowers, perched in a high sea of trees. No signs of her wound, no blood, just a laughing girl.

When Neil woke up, he held onto the peaceful feeling of the dream for a moment. But it quickly slipped away once he tried to turn around. Pain flared over the right side of his back where he had fallen yesterday. He couldn’t breathe for a few seconds and hastily lay on his left side again. Carefully, he prodded with his fingers over the ribs on his back and suppressed a whimper. That was not good.

After a few minutes he managed to sit up and tried not to grimace. He took shallow breaths, because normal breathing hurt too much. Neil’s eyes flickered around and found Andrew, still leaning against the tree with a knife in his hand, but asleep.

After a few agonizing moments, he managed to stand up and take a few steps. It was incredibly painful, but his mobility was not restricted through the injury itself but rather through the pain. He thought about Robin’s and Leverett’s backpacks they had taken yesterday. Maybe one of them had something useful.

Quietly, as not to wake Andrew, Neil sneaked up to the tree and Andrew who had the packs arranged next to him. He had only managed to grab Leverett’s pack when a sudden fist hit him in his stomach and he doubled over in both pain and surprise.

“’The fuck are you doing?” said Andrew, but Neil couldn’t respond. He sunk to his knees, holding his middle and wishing for immediate death. He managed to keep his stomach contents in, though.

“I—the backpack,” he gasped after a few seconds. He was still holding on to it. Andrew crouched down beside him and yanked the pack from Neil’s death grip. “Don’t sneak up on me,” he told Neil as he emptied the pack’s contents on the ground. “What are you looking for?”

Neil’s eyes scanned over several knives, two spare spearheads, a flashlight, a small leather pouch, a full bottle of water, a pack of dried food, and a first-aid kit. Neil pointed at the kit, and Andrew took it with a slight frown. “You knew you would need a first-aid kit before I even hit you? Are you stupid?”

The pain from Andrew’s punch was slowly fading, but that made his ribs hurt even more. “No,” he said through gritted teeth and made a move to get the kit, but Andrew let it dangle just out of Neil’s reach and watched him struggle with a bored expression. “Talk.”

Neil glared at him and decided that it was not worth it. He had lived through worse pain and didn’t need this kind of bullshit before breakfast. “Forget it,” he said and got up. “I’m fine.”

His ribs were protesting with another surge of pain at that, but really. It was nothing against a gunshot wound or even the burn on his cheek that still troubled him.

“I’m sure you are,” Andrew said mockingly, following him. Neil wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, when Andrew poked a spot on Neil’s back and he almost keeled over from it.

“Fuck you,” he groaned and had to support himself against a tree trunk. Andrew seemed unimpressed as always. He walked around Neil, so they could face each other.

“Shut up and show me.” He meant for Neil to lift his shirt and let him get a look at it. Neil’s eye went wide. “No,” he said, schooling his face in a neutral expression. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“A fucking snowflake could kill you right now if it happened to fall on your back. Don’t be so pathetic.”

He was not wrong, and Neil knew as much. The stupid explosion had really done more harm than good in hindsight. Still, he wouldn’t cast his shirt off. Even if he were bleeding out right now, he wouldn’t risk anyone seeing it.

So Neil did the next best thing, he shed his jacket and dragged one of Andrew’s hands under the hem of his shirt. He pressed Andrew’s palm to the ugly scarring across his abdomen. Andrew’s eyes dropped to Neil’s shirt like he could see Neil’s marred skin through the dark cotton.

“Just feel it,” Neil said. Andrew’s fingers twitched against his skin. Neil couldn’t possibly tell Andrew why he wouldn’t lift his shirt, even if his life depended on it. But he was sure Andrew would understand and maybe help him in a more subtle way.

Andrew pulled free and folded his arms over his chest. “Turn around.”

Neil held the front of his shirt down so the cameras wouldn’t get a glimpse of what lay beneath, while Andrew examined his unscarred back. Every touch hurt like hell, and after a few minutes Andrew informed him about his result.

“Your ribs are most likely bruised, but nothing’s broken. There’s not much we can do, maybe we should find a stream so you can cool it.” He rummaged through the first-aid kit and pulled out a small plastic bottle with pills. “Here, take some of these.” Painkillers, not really strong ones, but better than nothing. Neil dry swallowed two of them, then they started to prepare breakfast.

As neither of them gave a fuck anymore, they started a fire and roasted the bird Neil had killed yesterday over it. Today they had to hunt some more and also gather a few things. Robin’s pack held nothing but her nearly empty water bottle, a handful of nuts and roots, a bit of rabbit, and her knife. Andrew picked it up and regarded it blankly. She had had no chance of reaching it under the net. Maybe if she had carried it on her belt, things could have been different. But no, it hadn’t been Robin’s fault.

They finished off the bread from District 11 with the last bit of Robin’s rabbit and wrapped up everything else for later. After quick consideration they decided to bury Leverett’s knives and spearheads, because neither of them had use or space for them. Afterwards, they decided to stick to the plan of traveling along the stream and maybe find safe shelter and also a possibility for Neil to cool his ribs. The painkillers helped, but only temporarily, and it was probably not good to move around so much with an injury like this. Yesterday it definitely hadn’t hurt so much.

“It gets worse before it gets better,” Andrew told him. “But I guess you know that already.”

The allusion to his scars was crystal clear. Neil found he was really getting delusional in the arena, next thing he’d tell Andrew everything about his father and who he was.

While walking, they came across a small field of wild strawberries, not far from the stream. The air was filled with their smell, and they gathered almost all of them, every so often eating one or two.

“Can you bake strawberry cakes?” Neil asked as they continued, bags and bellies filled with strawberries.

Andrew washed their juice from his hands in the stream. “I do in summer.”

“I guess it’s the only cake I like. Well, I mostly ate the strawberries and the base as a child.” He hadn’t eaten a strawberry cake in years, and he didn’t know why he had suddenly thought about it.

“Yes, you look like someone who doesn’t know what’s good,” Andrew said. Neil had forgotten what a sweet tooth the other actually was. Neil swung his arms in circles and stepped in front of Andrew, head cocked and a cheeky smile on his lips. “So what is your favorite cake? Do I have to guess?”

Andrew ignored him and walked straight past Neil, which didn’t discourage him in the slightest. He followed Andrew and eyed him closely up and down. “You could be an apple pie type… but no. It’s chocolate, right?”

Andrew’s glare was answer enough, and Neil couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He probably shocked them both with it, the next second he had clapped both hands over his mouth.

“If you want the Careers’ to find us, just go back to the lake and get it over with,” Andrew said deadpanned. 

Neil bit his lip. “Sorry.”

“Don’t start apologizing now, I’m already used to your stupidity.”

The day was hotter than usual, and soon Neil slipped out of his shoes and walked through the water as they headed downstream. The water was pleasantly cool, but the painkillers wore off too fast and his back made it hard for him to breathe. He didn’t want to ask Andrew for another dose, and Andrew didn’t offer. As long as he could still walk, he had to manage somehow.

The stream began to curve to the left into a part of the woods that was new to both of them. Muddy banks covered in tangled water plants led to large rocks that increased in size, until Neil began to feel somewhat trapped. It would be no small matter to escape the stream now. Fighting off Gorilla or other tributes while they climbed over the rocky terrain would be dangerous, if not impossible. But Andrew spotted an almost invisible cave entrance between two rocks, hidden through the stone and thick vines. With the water so close, it was a perfect hiding spot.

Andrew climbed over the wet rocks easily; Neil hadn’t thought he could be so nimble-footed. Meanwhile, Neil had a hard time even taking one step after another. He had taken the painkillers this morning, and now in the early evening there was not much left in his system. When he watched Andrew climbing down to the cave, he knew it would be impossible for him. He hated it, he hated being so helpless. His mother would be shouting at him by now, calling him soft and spoiled. And maybe it was true. Maybe he had become soft in the past year.

“Give me your hand,” Andrew said. He stood on a rock overhang and looked up to Neil. Neil peered down to him. This was going to hurt so much, but Andrew held out his hand and gestured with it impatiently. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”

Biting his lip, Neil slowly sat down and inched over the rock’s edge until Andrew could touch his feet. If Andrew didn’t catch him now, Neil could easily break his neck. Maybe that was Andrew’s plan all along. He couldn’t outright kill Neil, that wouldn’t sit well with his sponsors who still bought into this partnership, or whatever they wanted to see. So why not make it an accident? Tragic, but it certainly would secure Andrew some pity points.

“If you think too hard, you’re going to hurt your pretty head,” Andrew said flatly. Neil clenched his jaw. Whatever. He was in too much pain to drag himself back into the woods, and in his current position he could be easily spotted.

“I’m coming,” he said and slid down until he felt Andrew’s hand grabbing his waist, mindful to not touch his bruised ribs, and helping him down. Neil panted, he felt dizzy from the pain, and sweat let his hair stick to his forehead. But between the damp rocks, it was already a lot cooler than in the woods or even on the rocks above him.

Andrew cut a few vines from the cave’s entrance, and then they were standing in a moderately big cavern. It was cool, pleasantly so during the day, but in the night it would become very cold.

“Wait here,” Andrew instructed Neil, and Neil had no other choice but to comply. He couldn’t climb the rocks back out again, not right now at least.

Andrew returned a few minutes later, arms full of pine needles. He covered the floor with a few layers of them, then told Neil to unroll his sleeping bag on it. He made the trip a second time and built his own bed, further away from Neil, against the cave wall. After the punch in his gut this morning, Neil didn’t question it.

The sun was still up outside, so they prepared their dinner at the cave’s entrance in the last daylight. It consisted of strawberries, some of Robin’s nuts and half of the bird. It was a quiet meal, like so often between them, and afterwards they just sat there and watched the shadows grow larger.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Neil pulled his legs to his body and tucked his knees under his chin. He had avoided thinking about a few things since he had entered the arena, and especially since he had met Andrew again, and to some extent also Robin. Now that Robin was dead, a thought had tried to break through the surface ever so often during the past few hours. Eventually, Neil couldn’t hold it in anymore and said, “Andrew.” He waited for the other’s attention before continuing.

Andrew looked up from where he was laying out all of his knives; he had a few more than only those under his armbands. Neil tilted his head slightly, so his right cheek rested on his knees, and asked, “When do you think we should separate?”

Andrew only stared at him, but Neil knew by now that was his way of asking for elaboration.

“There are only six of us left, and you know only one can win. And I don’t want to kill you,” Neil said.

“You’re assuming I don’t want to kill you.”

“Do you want to?” Neil started to draw tiny circles on his shins, not sure what he wanted to hear from Andrew just then.

“Ninety percent of the time the very sight of you makes me want to commit murder,” Andrew said casually.

“What about the other ten?”

Andrew ignored that. “If you want to leave, then leave. But six means there are still four people beside me who want to get rid of you. And not everyone might be so kind in granting you a quick death.”

Neil ducked his head sideways to hide the relieved smile that wouldn’t stop spreading over his lips. It was stupid, stupid to feel relieved at Andrew’s words. It didn’t change anything, one of them would be dead in the near future. But still, should it be Neil, he wouldn’t die alone.

Soon, Neil slipped into the warmth of his sleeping bag and chewed mint leaves to take his mind off the pain that flared up with every breath he took. He would take another pill before actually going to sleep, but he wasn’t tired enough for that yet.

When the anthem started to play, he tried to peek outside the cave and into the sky. Apparently, it had been an uneventful day, no pictures were shown. Neil wondered how long they would get until the next catastrophe drove them back together. If it was going to be tonight, he should better get some sleep first.

He left his sleeping bag and went over to where Andrew was sitting. He waited for the anthem to stop, so he could ask for another painkiller, when suddenly the trumpets started to play. They both looked at each other before facing the cave entrance. Andrew turned his right ear towards it, and they waited for the announcement.

For the most part, the only communication the tributes got from outside the arena was the nightly death toll. But occasionally, there would be trumpets followed by an announcement. Usually, it would be a call to a feast. When food was scarce, the Gamemakers would invite the players to a banquet, somewhere known to all, like the Cornucopia, as an inducement to gather and fight. Sometimes there was a feast and sometimes there was nothing but a loaf of stale bread for the tributes to compete for.

Neil wouldn’t go in for the food, but this could be an ideal time to take out a few competitors.

The announcer’s voice boomed down from overhead, congratulating the six tributes that remained. But he wasn’t inviting them to a feast. Rather, he said something very confusing. There had been a rule change in the Games. A rule change, as if there were any rules to begin with, except the sixty second countdown and an unspoken rule about not eating each other, after a certain incident a few years ago.

Under the new rule, both tributes from the same district would be declared winners if they were the last two alive. The announcer paused, as if he knew they were not getting it, and repeated the change again.

The news sunk in. Two tributes could win this year. If they were from the same district. Both could live. Neil looked to Andrew who was already looking at him. Both of them could live. The change was so obviously for their sake; it made Neil, after the initial disbelief, immediately suspicious. They were the only district pair left in the Games. The other four were all on their own now, and this gave both of them a tremendous advantage. Well, they would have worked together anyway, but now they both could make it out alive.

“I—” Neil started, but stopped. He didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Andrew didn’t have the same problem. “I won’t drag your pathetic ass all the way to the finish line.”

Neil stuck the tip of his tongue out and retorted, “Thought you wanted me dead anyway.”

It was so dark now in the cave that they couldn’t see each other anymore, only dark silhouettes. But Andrew’s glare was evident.

That night, Neil went to sleep feeling lighter than ever. After yesterday, after Robin’s death, he had felt this constant gnawing feeling in his chest. It had weakened after the talk with Andrew, knowing that they would stay together for a little longer. And now it was completely gone. They had a real chance now. Only four other people between them and victory. Only four people to kill to make it back to the Capitol and from there back to District 12.

Neil could live. He could live. And his father most likely knew by now where he was. That he was alive, and should he make it out of the arena, his father would be waiting for him. The father Neil had told Andrew about. But what did it matter what Andrew knew, when his father was on his way to get him anyway?

There was only one way to go after the arena, and that was as far away as possible from Andrew and District 12—assuming that they would win.

That night, Neil slept restlessly. His dreams filled with hopefulness and violence.

 

After breakfast, they decided to stay in the area for the day. They would hunt and gather supplies; Neil could rest his ribs some more. And the day after, they would start to hunt down the others. The biggest problem would be Gorilla and Amal. The girl from 5 might be hard to catch, but Neil knew how to find a runner, knew all their little tricks. The raven-haired girl from 1 he and Andrew could probably manage. She was good with knives and pretty fast, but so was Neil, so was Andrew. Whereas Gorilla was dangerous, they had to be careful with him. And Amal, the boy from Robin’s district. Neil had not seen him once in the arena, and neither had Andrew. There was no telling what he was capable of, but his ten in the training score indicated there was more than just a pleasant personality that had the audience wrapped around his finger.

They packed up, and Andrew helped Neil climb back up the rocks again. He felt slightly better than yesterday, and the painkillers were actually helping. They had only started to walk further down the river when the familiar beeping of a sponsor’s parachute made them pause.

It landed right in front of Andrew’s feet, attached to it was a bowl-sized container and a note. Andrew picked it up and read the note before Neil could even reach him. Neil was just an arm’s length from Andrew when he suddenly tensed, and the container along with the parachute crashed against a rock.

Neil blinked, confused at what had just happened.

Andrew was standing stock still like a statue, not even his chest was moving for breathing, and his gaze was distant. Neil had to take only one look to know Andrew was currently far away. 

“Andrew,” he started cautiously, slowly approaching as if he were a wild animal. He only made it one step further before Andrew’s voice cut right through him, ice-cold, and unapproachable. “Don’t.”

And Neil stopped. He glanced to the container that had been broken with the impact against the rock wall. Cookies were spilling out, now slowly getting soaked with the water from the river. So Neil walked towards them instead, maybe he could save a few. Andrew liked sweets after all. But Andrew stopped him again. “Don’t touch them. We go.”

And like that he started to walk again. The crumpled note fell from his hand. He either didn’t notice or care. Hesitantly, Neil followed along. But his curiosity got the better of him again, and he swiftly picked up the note to read over it.

_ Best regards from Drake for you and your boyfriend – W _

The boyfriend thing was really getting old, but if it was the reason they had changed the rules, maybe to appease the audience, he wouldn’t complain. Andrew surely knew about that, so why would he freak out like that just now?

Neil frowned. Who was Drake? Someone Andrew knew apparently, and by the looks of it, didn’t particularly like. And most certainly did not want to talk about. Neil bit his lip and ripped the note into tiny pieces, so they could be washed away with the current. He then kicked the cookies under a rock, so they wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye, and ran after Andrew who was almost at the forest edge.

To say the mood was strained would be a total understatement. Andrew functioned; he gathered the berries and examined them thoroughly before putting them in his pack. He helped hunting, even managed to kill one of the small turkeys, and found edible nuts and roots. But there was a distance between him and Neil that was insurmountable.

Neil didn’t dare to come too close, not because he was afraid Andrew could lash out, but because Andrew had unmistakably made it clear that he didn’t want to be touched or talked to. The tension distracted Neil to the point that he hadn’t realized how far they had walked already. They were maybe an hour or so from their cave, but had been stalking the woods for much longer. It was past noon already, their bags filled to the brim with supplies.

“We should head back,” he said. The first words between them for hours. Andrew didn’t react, he simply kept on walking. “Andrew!” Neil called out.

They were in unfamiliar terrain now, the grass here was almost as tall as Andrew and the ground muddy. Anything could be hidden there, from hungry animals to traps the Gamemakers had laid out to keep tributes from wandering too far off the track. Snakes were a possibility as well.

Neil grabbed a stick and beat around the grass with it, following Andrew further, while calling his name. Slowly, he was losing his patience. Finally, he caught up to Andrew. “Stop with this nonsense, we have to go back!”

Andrew stopped, eyes dark and distant for a second, before he tilted his head, and said, “I don’t have to do anything, Neil.”

“No, but we’re already too far off the map probably. If we go any further, they will send something our way.” He could really live without another inferno descending onto him.

Andrew seemed to consider this. “Did you read the note?” he then asked out of the blue, and Neil was too puzzled to lie. Instead he just said, “Yes.”

Andrew clicked his tongue. “Didn’t you know? Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Yes, and satisfaction brought it back. Despite, I’m a rabbit, remember?”

Andrew said nothing to that, but his fingers twitched slightly, and Neil wasn’t sure if he was amused or wanted to hit him. Either way, they slowly walked out from the swampy clearing they had walked into, and Neil was already hoping they would make it without any disruptions, when he heard a soft metallic sound, followed by a click and Andrew’s quiet, “Fuck.”

Andrew didn’t scream. He growled and then hissed. Neil was completely frozen for a moment, watching as Andrew slowly sat down and started to pant heavily.

It was a rather small trap, thankfully no heavy bear trap, but its teeth were still sharp and currently boring through Andrew’s leg. The blood was slowly oozing out, dyeing Andrew’s brown boots red.

“Get this thing off me,” Andrew gritted out, jaw clenched and forehead sweat coated. He was paper white from the pain he must be in. At once, Neil came back to life. He poked the ground for other traps with his stick, then went on his knees to inspect the trap that had snapped shut slightly above Andrew’s ankle.

“Okay,” Neil said. “Okay, I can do this, I just—” he stared at the few razor sharp teeth that were currently not pierced through leather, skin and flesh. Then he shook his head. “Hold on, I’m going to open it.”

It was a simple coil spring trap, only Gamemaker improved by adding the teeth. Neil stood up, hovering over Andrew. He motioned for Andrew to lean back, so he could step down on the springs left and right of the center pan. It opened and Andrew was able to pull his foot out.

“Before we look at it, let’s go back to the stream,” Neil suggested, already certain they would need a lot of water. It was as straining as their pathetic limping after the explosion. Andrew was heavy against Neil’s side, and Neil almost toppled over from the weight.

It took them over fifteen minutes to get out of the forest and to the stream. They were still an hour away from their cave, but at least the rocks offered some kind of visual cover.

At the water, Neil helped Andrew sit down. He did not make a sound, the panting the only sign of the stress his body was currently under. And of course the ashen skin and cold sweat. Neil swallowed. “I’m going to remove your boot now, okay?”

Andrew only gave a curt nod. So Neil removed the boot and sock as gently as possible. The sight that presented itself to Neil was… not good. But it could also be worse. Andrew’s bone had been spared from the trap. Nothing felt broken or splintered to Neil, but the open wounds held a certain risk of infection. And they wouldn’t stop bleeding.

With the leg in the water, Neil rummaged through the first-aid kit and retrieved some gauze, painkillers and a few of Robin’s tracker-jacker leaves. There was nothing for disinfection in it, though.

“Okay, uhm. The leaves draw infection out I guess, so I’ll start with them,” he muttered, more to himself than to Andrew who was on the verge of passing out. “Take those,” he gave Andrew the painkillers. “And drink something.”

He started to chew on the leaves and pressed them around Andrew’s leg, then wrapped it up with clean white gauze. It looked a lot better like this, but it was questionable if it would contain an infection. 

It was impossible to make it back to their cave like this. Andrew was trying stubbornly to stay awake, but only managed so barely. Neil looked around and found that some of the rocks formed small cavelike structures. He set his sights on one about twenty meters above the stream.

“Okay, I’m getting you over there,” Neil said and pointed to the spot he had in mind. Andrew followed his finger, his pupils so dilated that his eyes looked more black than hazel. He nodded, though.

When Andrew was able to stand, Neil half-guided, half-carried him to the cave. Really, he’d like to look around for a better place, but this one would have to do, because Andrew couldn’t walk much further. Neil covered the floor with a layer of pine needles, just like Andrew had done before, and helped him to sit down.

There wasn’t much else to do, but to prepare some food and force it down Andrew’s throat. He refused it however, and Neil wouldn’t put it past him to bite his finger should he try any more. Exasperated, Neil sat back and ate a few berries himself. “What do I have to do for you to eat something?” Andrew glanced at him, then slowly dragged his eyes over Neil’s torso. “Show them to me.”

He almost choked on the berry he had just put into his mouth. He started to cough and then sputtered, “I—no. This is—I can’t.”

“Not here,” Andrew said. “When we’re back.” Back. Out of the arena. Together as winners.

Neil opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. It was his turn now to look after Andrew. He had saved him more than once, while Neil had done nothing to make life easier for him. He really didn’t like to be in someone’s debt.

“Okay,” he agreed finally. And Andrew forced a handful of nuts and berries down, but couldn’t stand much more. The day passed once again without any deaths. Neil hoped the other tributes were keeping the audience entertained, so the Gamemakers wouldn’t start setting rabid animals on them or flooding the arena.

In the morning, Andrew ran a fever. His lips were bone dry, and Neil tested his cheek. Hot as a coal stove. Neil watched as Andrew drank almost all of the one-liter water bottle. Then, he steeled himself and unwrapped the leg.

His heart dropped into his stomach. It was worse. The small wounds from the teeth were inflamed and pus was seeping out. Robin’s leaves were apparently only good enough for stings and not for flesh wounds.

Neil swallowed. “It’s really not that bad…” He took a full water bottle and started to clean the leg. The skin was an angry red, and without the right treatment the infection would spread out soon and even cause blood poisoning. Neil had never treated any wounds without any disinfectant, and he felt at a loss right now.

“Don’t give me that look, fox boy,” Andrew said. He was burning under Neil’s hand, and Neil started to chew on his lip.

“I’ll be right back. I just go and fetch some water. Maybe find some leaves... I don’t know.” He really didn’t. He had seen little children recovering from open bite wounds, but also healthy, full-grown men dying from a mere cough. If Wymack wanted to send something in, now would be a convenient time. The cost of such strong anti-infection drugs would be enormous, though, and after the burn ointment, Neil wasn’t so sure they would get any help soon.

The day passed with Andrew drinking liter after liter, and Neil watching him getting hotter and hotter. The leg was wrapped up again, but the skin not touched by gauze was also growing red.

The sound of the trumpets startled Neil. Andrew didn’t even twitch; he was sitting against the cool stone of the cave wall, eyes unfocused. Neil stood up and went to the mouth of the cave, to not miss a syllable. Would they cancel their previous rule change now? Or was it an invitation to a real feast this time?

The announcer invited them indeed to a feast. Well, they were not hungry, and Neil actually waved his offer away in indifference when he said, “Now hold on. Some of you may already be declining. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you need something desperately.”

Neil needed something desperately. Something to heal Andrew’s leg.

“Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance,” said the announcer.

There was nothing else, just his words hanging in the air. Neil turned to Andrew, who was looking at him now. “You will not go,” he said.

It was already dark outside, so Neil still had a couple of hours for sleep before he had to leave. He looked at Andrew like he had lost his mind. “Of course I’ll go.”

“No.” It was final. But not for Neil.

“Why? Why should I not go?” There was no reason for Neil not to.

He couldn’t see what expression Andrew wore, but when he finally said something, it sounded strained. “Because you will win. And you won’t risk it for something stupid like this. Let the others kill each other.”

“That could take  _ days _ ,” Neil replied hotly. “You don’t have days!” The infection would only get worse and without proper treatment, Andrew would most likely die from it. Nothing Neil wanted to think about, not if they both had a chance to win now.

“Then you continue without me.” He sounded bored, as if Neil was slow-witted and he had to be told everything thrice.

“No,” Neil said and slipped into his sleeping bag. He would give himself a few hours of sleep, before leaving under the veil of darkness. He still had the glasses, and he wanted to be there at dawn. The sooner he had the treatment for Andrew, the quicker he would be back.

Now, Andrew actually sounded somewhat angry when he said, “You will not go.”

“If it means losing you, then it’s still a no,” Neil replied casually.

A beat of silence. “I hate you.”

Somehow Neil felt like he had just won an argument. “Fine with me,” he said and closed his eyes.

Neil woke in the middle of the night and set out to move. He slipped the night vision glasses on and spent half an hour camouflaging the opening of the cave. He left a small opening to crawl inside or out, but the cave was now undetectable from the outside.

He would travel lightly, which meant he left the sleeping bag and unnecessary food behind with Andrew. He would either die during the feast or make it back alive. There were no other options left, he wouldn’t abandon Andrew like this.

“No one asked you for this martyr shit,” Andrew said from the darkness of the cave. Neil huffed. “At least you can still complain. See you in a few hours.”

He left with his bow and nine arrows, his knife which Andrew had returned to him—cleaned, and Robin’s knife. The thought of killing someone with it wasn’t as nauseating as it had been before Leverett’s death. He would still prefer the bow, but in close-quarters combat, a knife could be pretty helpful. And he would need it. One thing Neil was fairly certain of was that at least Gorilla, Raven Girl and Amal would be on hand when the feast started. The girl from 5 wasn’t one for confrontation, so she would probably stay out of it.

He moved as fast as he dared. The glasses were quite remarkable, but his back was bothering him again. They had to share the painkillers now, so Neil had passed on one before sleeping, but now he swallowed two. He needed his concentration for this and couldn’t fight constant pain while he had to compete with Gorilla.

Neil made his way back up the stream and followed the same path back to Robin’s hiding place near the lake. Along the way, he saw no sign of another tribute, no movement or even a quiver of a branch. Either he was the first to arrive or the others had already positioned themselves last night. There was still more than an hour when he wriggled into the underbrush and waited for the blood to begin to flow.

He thought about his mother, what she would have done in his stead. Surely, she would have killed Andrew the second she had set sight on him. It wasn’t his mother who commanded his thoughts now, though. It was Andrew who had looked out for him, had formed an alliance to find him. Had killed for him. The least Neil could do was return the favor.

The sky turned a misty morning gray, and still there was no sign of the other tributes. It wasn’t surprising, really. Everyone had distinguished themselves either by strength or deadliness or cunning. Did they suppose, Neil wondered, that he had Andrew with him? No one even knew he was wounded. All the better if they thought he was covering him when Neil went for the backpack.

Where was it anyway? The arena had lightened enough for Neil to remove his glasses. He could hear the morning birds singing. Wasn’t it time?

For a second, Neil panicked that he was at the wrong location. But no, the announcer had said at the Cornucopia. And there it was. And here he was. So where was the feast?

Just as the first ray of sun glinted off the gold Cornucopia, there was a disturbance on the meadow. The ground before the mouth of the horn split in two, and a round table with a snowy white cloth rose into the arena.

On the table sat five backpacks, three large black ones with the numbers 1, 2 and 11, a medium-sized green one with the number 5, and a tiny orange one that must be marked with a 12. It was hard to see from the distance.

The table had just clicked into place when a figure darted out of the Cornucopia, snagged the green backpack, and speeded off. The girl from 5! What a clever and risky idea, while the rest of them were still poised around the meadow, sizing up the situation, she had her gift already. She had them trapped too, because no one wanted to chase her down, not while their own pack sat so vulnerably on the table. She must have purposefully left the other packs alone, knowing that to steal one without her number would definitely bring on pursuers.

Neil bit his lip. It was clear that he had to get to the table next. Anyone who beat him to it could easily scoop up his pack and be gone. 

Without hesitation, he sprinted for the table.

He could sense the emergence of danger before he saw it. The first knife came whizzing in on his right side, and he was able to deflect it with his bow. He turned, drawing back the bowstring, and sent an arrow straight at Raven Girl’s heart. She turned just enough to avoid a fatal hit, but the point punctured her upper left arm. Unfortunately, she threw with her right, but it was enough to slow her down for a few moments, as she had to pull the arrow from her arm, taking in the severity of the wound.

Neil kept moving, positioning the next arrow automatically, as his mother had showed him.

He was at the table now, fingers closing over the tiny orange backpack. His hand slipped between the straps and he yanked it up on his arm. He was turning to fire again when the second knife caught him in the forehead. It sliced above his right eyebrow, opening a gash that sent a gush running down his face, blinding his eye, filling his mouth with the sharp, metallic taste of his own blood. Neil staggered back, the bow falling from his hands. And then Raven Girl slammed into him, knocking Neil flat on his back, pinning his shoulders to the ground with her knees.

So this was it, he thought. But Raven Girl meant to savor the moment, felt like she had time. So she was still allied with Gorilla who was probably somewhere nearby, guarding her, waiting for Amal and Andrew.

“Where’s your boyfriend, Pretty Boy?” she asked. Neil knew instantly that she was the girl with the playful craziness that reminded him of Lola. Only that she was just a stupid girl, a sadistic one that is, but she had no idea what real horror was. And as long as they were talking, Neil was alive.

“He’s out there now. Slicing your gorilla buddy up like the stupid pig he is,” he snarled at her and spat in her face.

She jammed her fist into his windpipe, very effectively cutting off his voice. Yes, thank you Kevin. He knew very well he shouldn’t have done that. Now.

But her head was whipping from side to side, and Neil knew for a moment she was at least considering he was telling the truth. Since no Andrew appeared to save him, she turned back to him.

“Liar,” she said with a grin and opened her jacket. It was lined with an impressive array of knives. She carefully selected an almost dainty-looking number with a cruel, curved blade. “I promised Hawkins if he let me have you, I’d give the audience a good show.”

Now this, this was his father all the way. This was Lola, asking her brother how she should tutor little junior today. Panic welled up in Neil, pure and cruel fear, and for a moment he wasn’t on a meadow, in an arena miles away from the Capitol. He was on the living room floor in his childhood home, and his father held him down while cutting, cutting, and cutting.

He started to struggle; he wanted her gone from him, gone! But it was no use, she was too heavy and her lock on him too tight.

“That’s a good look on you, Pretty Boy. Now hold still, we’re going to kill you one way or another. Just like we did with your pathetic little ally… what was her name? Robin? Well, first Robin, then you, and then we will hunt down your boyfriend. How does that sound?” Raven Girl asked. “Now, where do we start?”

Neil couldn’t calm his breathing anymore; he was staring right at his father’s face.  _ Where do we start, Junior? _

Somewhere in the real world, Raven Girl carelessly wiped away the blood from his wound with her jacket sleeve. Or was it Lola, stroking the hair out of his forehead, telling him he would be such a handsome man one day? Lola, no Raven Girl, surveyed his face for a moment as if Neil was a block of wood and she was deciding exactly what pattern to carve on it.

“I think…” she almost purred.  _ I think I’m going to leave your face alone, Junior. So much of your father in it, it would be a waste of a pretty face. _

“I think we’ll start with your mouth.” Neil started to shake as she teasingly traced the outline of his lips with the tip of the blade. “Yes, I don’t think you’ll have much use for your lips any more. Want to blow your boyfriend one last kiss?” she asked.

And Neil stopped. He simply went still under the girl. His eyes focused back on her face. She didn’t look like Lola at all. She was only a girl, probably younger than Neil. And so he worked up a mouthful of blood and saliva and spat it in her face. Again. She flushed with rage.

“Alright, then. Let’s get started.”

Neil smiled at her, cold and bloody, and said, “Try it, little girl.”

He braced himself for the agony that was sure to follow. But as he felt the tip open the first cut at his lips, some great force yanked her from his body and then she was screaming.

Neil was too stunned at first, too unable to process what had just happened. Had Andrew somehow come to his rescue? Had the Gamemakers sent in some wild animal to add to the fun?

But when Neil pushed himself up on his numb arms, he saw it was none of those things. Raven Girl was dangling a foot off the ground, a sword pressed to her throat.

Amal was tall, he was somewhere between Matt Boyd and Jean Moreau, but he wasn’t built like Gorilla. He wasn’t insane muscle power, he was more like a runner. And yet, he held Raven Girl like a rag doll with one hand, while the other was grabbing the hilt of a massive sword. He flipped Raven Girl around and flung her on the ground. “Did you kill her?” he asked, voice even, and somehow that made him more terrifying. That was the guy joking around with Kathy, charming people with his easy smile. And he was also under the last six tributes.

“What did you do to the little girl?” He pointed the tip of the blade to her throat, and Raven Girl was scrambling backwards on all fours, like a frantic insect, too shocked to even call for Gorilla. “No! No, it wasn’t me!”

“You said her name. I heard you. You kill her?” His features were blank, not blank like Andrew’s, but a mask made of stone. Cold anger. “You cut her up like you were going to cut up Twelve here?”

“No! No, I—” The sword pierced through her chest like it was butter. It looked so easy.

Neil could see she was a goner, even though there was still life in her now, in the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the low moan escaping her lips.

Amal turned around, and Neil reached instantly for the knife strapped to his belt. Amal did not attack him, though, he only pointed his sword at Neil and said, “Just this one time, Twelve. Just this one time I let you go. For the little girl. You and me, we’re even now. No more owed. Tell as much to your boy, you understand?”

Neil nodded because he did understand. About owing. About hating it. He owed Robin so much more, even in death she had protected him.

“Hey!” Gorilla’s voice suddenly echoed over the meadow, and Neil saw him running towards them.

“You better run now,” said Amal.

Neil didn’t need to be told twice. He flipped over, and his feet dug into the soft grass and damp earth as he ran away from Amal and Raven Girl and the sound of Gorilla’s voice. He crashed into the trees, repeatedly swiping away the blood that was pouring into his eye, fleeing like the wild, wounded creature he was.

After a few minutes, Neil heard the cannon, and he knew Raven Girl had finally died.

He didn’t slow down when he reached the water. He plunged right in, boots still on, and floundered downstream. With his jacket sleeve Neil tried to stop the flow of blood, but it was soaked in minutes.

Somehow, he made it back to the cave. He squeezed through the rocks and felt the relief crash over him when he saw Andrew still sitting on his pine needle bed, wool blanket draped over his shoulders and very much awake. He said nothing when Neil stumbled towards him, pulling the orange backpack from his arm. He cut open the clasp, and pulled out a simple black box. Fingers fumbling, it took him a few tries to open it. Another ointment, no note of course.

“I’m going to put this on your leg,” Neil said, voice hoarse. Andrew was still only watching him silently. He didn’t pull away when Neil removed the gauze and generously spread the ointment over his wound. Neil stared at it, until he felt himself becoming dizzy. The right half of his face was completely covered in blood. His mouth probably too.

“Neil,” Andrew said. And Neil slowly turned his head towards him. He was suddenly very tired. “Neil, come here.”

Slowly, like in trance, Neil crawled over to Andrew. He stopped at Andrew’s shoulder, and the last thing he felt were fingers ghosting over the gash on his forehead.

Then he fell into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the feast scene so much in thg and I really wanted to write it with Neil! Then I realized neither of the boys is injured enough for it to happen so I let Andrew walk into a random trap. This is some lazy story telling but I couldn't come up with another reason for Neil risking his life lmao  
> (also me@me: when does Jean finally appear in this mess? I had to at least mention him for no other reason but to describe how tall Amal is)


	9. Darkest Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know I'm fast, I spent my whole Sunday writing this.... because after this chapter there is only one more to go and Part 1 of this fic will be concluded! Can you believe? I can't! I never made it this far with a multi-chapter fic lmao

The sound of rain drumming on the roof gently pulled Neil towards consciousness. He fought to return to sleep, though, wrapped in a warm cocoon of blankets, and fingers combing through his hair. He was vaguely aware that his head ached. Possibly he had the flu and this is why his mother allowed him to stay in bed, even though he could tell he had been asleep for a long time.

At once, Neil eyes flew open. His mother had never allowed him to stay in bed. Even if he would have coughed blood, she would have dragged him from safe house to safe house. She had also stopped combing through his hair the day they had finally left his father’s house.

The fingers in his hair and the sense of security vanished. He wasn’t with his mother. He was in a dim, chilly cave, his bare feet freezing despite the cover, the air tainted with the unmistakable smell of blood.  
But he could sense someone near him, a warm body, moving ever so slightly.  
Neil looked up, and Andrew’s face slid into view. He was sitting with his back leaned against the wall, legs outstretched, and Neil realized he was lying next to him. His face facing Andrew’s right thigh.

“Why is it that every time I lose sight of you, you come back with another injury on your face and covered in blood?” Andrew asked Neil.  
Gingerly, Neil lifted his hand to his head and found the gash almost completely gone. He felt a faint scar were just a few hours ago a deep slash had bled all over his face. This simple gesture left him weak and dizzy.  
“Do you think I’m going to lose my pretty boy status over it?” he joked, coughing at the dry feeling in his throat.  
“You’re going to lose your life, if you don’t shut up now.” Andrew held a bottle in front of Neil’s face and he sat up slowly, groaning at his sore muscles and throbbing head.

He drank thirstily, and only then remembered why he went through this whole ordeal. He eyed Andrew’s leg and saw it covered in his trouser and boot again.  
“You’re better,” Neil said. Andrew followed Neil’s glance and pulled the boots off to lift his trouser leg. The only sign of injury were a few reddish marks where the teeth had been through skin and flesh. “The ointment healed it over night. Your head as well, you should be glad there is nothing in it. Not much harm done.”

Neil touched the spot over his eyebrow again and still couldn’t believe it came back clean and without blood. “You did that,” he said, and his lips parted slightly as he looked at Andrew amazed.  
“Stop talking and eat something, you bled all over the floor. Thought I might have to bury you for good now. Would make my life much easier.” Neil bit back a smile and stuffed his mouth with the offered strawberries. He also ate a leg of their leftover bird and drank plenty of water.

His feet were still cold, even though he had them stuffed inside his sleeping bag, so he looked around for his boots and socks. Andrew noticed it and said, “Your boots and socks are still damp and the weather’s not helping.”  
There was a clap of thunder, and Neil saw lightning electrifying the sky through an opening in the rocks. Rain splattered the floor at the cave’s entrance, but the rest of their shelter was fortunately not leaking.

“They’re probably targeting Gorilla and Amal with this storm,” Neil murmured thoughtfully. Andrew said nothing, but Neil knew he was listening. That he wanted to know what had happened. “The girl from 5 is most likely in her den somewhere, and the girl from 1… she cut me and then…” His voice trailed off. He had panicked with her. A simple cut and a few threats and he had been as weak as he had been with ten.  
“I know she’s dead, I saw it in the sky last night,” Andrew said. “Did you kill her?”

Neil blinked. How long had he been out? Losing days in the arena was somehow becoming a common occurrence for him. He touched his forehead when he said, “No. Amal pierced her chest with a sword.”  
“Lucky he didn’t catch you, too,” said Andrew and sounded like he couldn’t care less.  
The memory of the feast returned full-force and for a second Neil felt sick. “He did,” he said, unaware of Andrew’s eyes darting over to him sharply. “But he let me go. For Robin.”

“He let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything,” Andrew concluded on his own. They both fell silent. The downpour outside wouldn’t stop anytime soon, and they still had enough food for another day. They would have to go hunting soon, though, because berries and roots could only satisfy their stomachs so much.

“Let’s see if Two and Eleven kill each other.” Andrew tilted his head back and his hand twitched towards his trouser pocket. They sat so close, their thighs were almost touching, Neil realized. It was cold all around, but like this they could at least share some body heat.  
He thought about Amal, and how he didn’t actually want to kill him. He also knew if it came down to his own survival, he wouldn’t hesitate.  
Maybe it was good that Gorilla and he fought each other out there, while Neil sat relatively safe in a cave with Andrew. He was glad he had gone to the feast. It didn’t matter that he had almost died or went through some of his past trauma. It had saved Andrew’s leg and therefore his life, so it was fine. He was fine.

He was nodding off on Andrew’s shoulder before he had even closed his eyes.

When he woke up again, he felt slightly more refreshed. He was lying again, head propped up on his arm, and mouth dry. He saw Andrew sitting in front of the cave entrance, watching the sky. It was still raining and storming outside, so at least there was no water shortage and Neil drank half of the one-liter bottle at once.  
“What time is it?” Neil asked. Andrew didn’t turn around to answer. “Evening. You slept the whole day away.” This made Neil pause. Since he had returned from the feast he had been only awake for a few hours. His sense of time was completely messed up, but he guessed he had lost around 36 hours to sleep. So almost two days had passed since the feast.

“Huh, why didn’t you wake me?” He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, then bent forward to stretch his hamstrings. Andrew watched him from the corner of his eye, before turning back to the dark sky. “You’re less trouble when you’re asleep,” he said.  
Neil only shrugged and helped himself to some food from out of the comfortable warmth of his sleeping bag. His socks and boots were drying only slowly, so he had no way of walking around if he didn’t want to freeze his naked feet.  
“Do you think you could bake a bread like the District 11 one?” Neil asked while nibbling at a root that had almost no taste. If the weather didn’t get better soon, they’d have a bit of a problem.

“Why would I do this?” Andrew wasn’t turning around for this conversation, but Neil was content with just watching his back. “I don’t know, it was delicious. People would like it at 12, too, I think.”  
“You mean you would like it.”  
“Sure, I would like it too. You could bake it for me.” Andrew didn’t immediately respond. A lightning illuminated the cave in bright light for a second. “We don’t have the ingredients in 12,” he said then. “Besides, I wouldn’t bake shit for you.”  
“You have already baked lots of shit for me, actually. I bet most of the bread I ate came from you. It’s good by the way.” He turned a strawberry around in his fingers, then said at Andrew’s silence, “Despite, aren’t we going to be rich when we return? You could buy those ingredients.”

“Buy it yourself. Buy it directly from District 11, I don’t care. Stop annoying me,” Andrew said. Neil hummed softly. “I can’t wait for us to be neighbors.”  
As victors, they would both move into the Victor’s Village. An extra area in every district where the winners could live the rest of their lives in luxury. From the twelve houses in District 12 only two were inhabited by Wymack and Renee.

“I hope you like people intruding into your life, then, Neil. Because that’s what is going to happen. They’ll all going to be snooping around in your business and inviting you for nice family gatherings,” Andrew told him nonchalantly. “And we both know you can’t stand Bee already. But she’s where Abby is and Abby is where Coach is.”  
Neil remembered the two women. And he also remembered Bee’s sharp eyes and friendly smile that hid precise understanding. She was no one Neil wanted to come too close to, she would see right through him.

“They live with Wymack?” he asked surprised. Andrew turned his head slightly to Neil and said with a mocking curve of his lips, “Scandalous, right? But as our good Samaritan girl is usually hanging around with them, too, I don’t think anything indecent is happening.”  
He was talking about Renee. “It’s a big house, Neil. Even bigger if you’re all alone.”  
Neil looked away, chewing on his lip. He wouldn’t stay long enough in District 12 to find out about this. Also, there was still a chance he could die. And not a small one at that.  
But as Andrew seemed to be in a talking mood, Neil took the opportunity to keep the conversation going.

“Why does everyone call him Coach anyway?” It wasn’t only a District 12 thing. Matt Boyd and Dan Wilds and several other mentors did so too. It wasn’t like Wymack was an actual coach such as Coach Hernandez. Coach Hernandez was technically a teacher, but he thought it important that the kids in the district did more than just learning Capitol induced bullshit and preparing for a life in the coal mines.

“Oh Neil,” sighed Andrew exaggerated, “where did you live the past, I don’t know, eighteen years? Oh right.” Neil growled at the well-placed jibe, but Andrew ignored him. “Coach is the oldest winner that still does some mentoring. As you know, Kayleigh Day is dead and Tetsuji Moriyama is making our life difficult right now. So where do the little fledgling mentors go to for advice and support? That’s right, he coached the first few succeeding winners like his own little team. Such dedication. And yet he failed his own tributes year after year until wonder girl came along. She tries so hard to be someone else now, don’t you think?”

Neil was still unsure what to think of Renee. He had avoided any closer contact with her, especially being alone with her. He knew who she had been, how she had won the Games, and he knew who she was now. He had no idea what happened in between for such a change to happen. Maybe it was just the Games that had happened.  
Neil said nothing, let the silence spread out between them and thought about the unrealistic idea of living in the Victor’s Village with Andrew across from him and Wymack and Renee next door. Would that be a home?

Maybe half an hour passed before Andrew said, “Now, would you look at that.” Neil wanted to ignore him first. But Andrew snapped his finger at him and that made Neil angry enough so spit out, “What?”  
From his position at the entrance, Andrew turned his profile to Neil and said, “Eleven is dead.”  
Now astonished, Neil said, “He can’t be.”  
“Looks like Two got him in the end. Good for you, now you don’t have to kill him.” Ignoring the cold cave ground, Neil made his way over to Andrew barefooted and squinted out into the dark, rainy sky. For about ten seconds, he caught a glimpse of Amal’s picture, and then he was gone. Just like that.

“Gorilla will be back hunting us now,” Neil said and slumped down against the rocks. His toes were already numb, but he didn’t feel like moving just now.  
“He’ll be wounded,” Andrew said. He rose and grabbed Neil’s upper arm to pull him up. “What makes you say that?” Neil asked and let Andrew push him back to his sleeping bag. He slipped inside and watched Andrew lower himself next to him. He didn’t even limp, the medicine had been worth all the trouble after all.  
“Eleven would have never gone down without a fight.” Neil nodded at that. Amal had been strong enough to lift Raven Girl up and point a heavy sword at her.

“What about the girl from 5? Should we go looking for her or hope they take each other out?” Neil rubbed his face over his arm and peered up at Andrew who was watching him again. His hand twitched again towards his trouser pocket, and suddenly Neil realized what he was doing. He wanted to pull out a cigarette. But of course there were none, it was an automatic movement.  
“Let’s go hunting first. They’ll stop the storm now that they have what they wanted.” Another murder, Neil thought. But even he knew it would be unwise to call it that while he was still relying somewhat on the audience’s good will. They were probably loving Andrew and him together right now. Maybe he could get a whole meal and other supplies out of them if he acted a little on their relationship show. He had no idea how he should do that, though, so the thought was buried with other, unimportant things.

“You can sleep, if you want,” Neil offered after a few minutes. He had slept so much, he could last for a while now. Andrew glanced down to him, he was still leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest. He seemed to be undecided.  
Eventually he said, “Don’t move. And don’t turn your back to me.”  
Neil blinked. “I can just sit on the other side of the cave if you want to.” It would be cold for both of them, but he didn’t mind so much.  
Andrew shook his head. “Just don’t touch me.”  
Neil couldn’t help but wondering what had happened to Andrew for him to be such a light and restless sleeper. But Neil wasn’t here to judge anyone, he had enough neuroses to maintain for himself.

“Okay, wait,” he said instead and pulled himself up, so he was sitting now against the rocky wall. He took their backpacks and built them to an improvised wall between them.  
Andrew only watched him silently, and only lay down when Neil said, “Done.”  
He scooped as far away from Neil as possible, wool blanket pulled right under his chin and back pressed against the wall. For a while, he was only watching Neil who tried very hard not to watch back. He busied himself instead with staring at the cave entrance, where rain was still pouring inside.

Somewhere during his watch, after Andrew had actually fallen asleep, the rain stopped. Not gradually, but all at once. The downpour ended and there was only the residual drippings of water from branches, and the rush of the now overflowing stream.  
A full, bright moon emerged, and even without the glasses he could see outside. Neil couldn’t decide if the moon was real or merely a projection of the Gamemakers.  
He started to wonder how much time had passed since he had left District 12. Probably more than a week in the arena, maybe even two. And there had been the two weeks of preparation in the Capitol. Could it be a full month already? Could he even trust in the surreal world of the arena, where the authenticity of everything was to be doubted?

Now, without anything for distraction, Neil allowed himself to think about the possibility that he might make it back to District 12. To wealth. To fame. Was it even possible for him to run again, once all of Panem knew his face? And more importantly, was it possible for his father to reach him, once Neil was in the public eye for well, the rest of his life. It was surely harder to explain the sudden disappearance of a Hunger Game’s victor than that of a Seam boy no one cared about. He also would have his own house in the Victor’s Village. He never had a home before.

 

The sun eventually rose, its light slipping through the entrance and illuminating Andrew’s face. Neil watched him for a moment, his relaxed mouth and eyebrows. He didn’t look much different than when he was awake, but it was easier to study him with his eyes closed and not the steady look from his hazel eyes following Neil.  
Between the bruise from his right eye down to his cheek, and a few small scratches, Neil spotted a few freckles on Andrew’s face. Neil touched his own nose, where his own freckles spread over the bridge and his cheeks. The only other thing his father hadn’t passed on to him in terms of genes. Somehow, the idea of the Butcher, president Moriyama’s right hand man, having freckles was weird enough. Freckles were something for children, something soft and cute, as Lola had told him. Back then, Neil had tried to scrub them off his face. He couldn’t appear as soft and cute at his father’s side.  
There was nothing soft and cute about Andrew, though. And neither about Neil himself.

Eventually, he grew restless after hours of sitting and staring at the entrance. He rolled from his pine needle bed, carefully as not to come too close to Andrew, and grabbed his boots to place them in the sun. When he turned back around, Andrew was already awake.

They decided to eat as much as possible to give themselves staying power and would earn it all back over the day via hunting and gathering.  
“How is your leg?” Neil asked, while they were packing up. His socks and boots were finally dry again and he could put them back on.  
“As good as new,” Andrew said. Neil decided to believe him.

Once outside, Neil checked his last eight arrows. Three he had lost in the explosion, one at the feast. He couldn’t afford losing more.  
“He’ll be hunting us by now,” he said. “Gorilla doesn’t seem to be one for waiting for his prey to wander by.”  
Andrew gave him a bored look, “The only prey I’m seeing is you.” Neil didn’t dignify that with an answer.

With all the rain, the stream had overrun its banks by a meter or so on either side. They stopped there to replenish their water. Neil checked the snares he had set days ago and came up empty, not surprising with the weather. Besides, they both hadn’t seen many animals or signs of them in this area.  
“We should better head back up to our old camp with Robin,” Neil said. It felt weird to say her name in such a casual manner. As if she hadn’t died only a few days ago in his arms.  
“Your call, hunting wonder,” Andrew said.

They decided to cover their tracks by walking in the water, and Neil couldn’t help but glance to Andrew behind him and his leg from time to time. “Eyes front, Josten,” Andrew would say and kick his leg not so gently.  
“Just looking out for you, someone has to after all.”  
“No one asked you.”

The boulders diminished to rocks that eventually turned to pebbles, and then they were back on pine needles and the gentle incline of the forest floor.  
They put their boots back on and continued their way uphill. Although it took several hours to reach their old camp, neither of them killed anything. As they stopped to rest and drank some water, they decided to split up.

Neil was a little nervous about it, if one of them ran into Gorilla this could end pretty badly. But Neil had better chances of finding game by climbing trees and killing it with his bow, while Andrew would look out for berries, roots and nuts.  
They agreed on Robin’s and Andrew’s four tune signal, which they could use to communicate that they were alright.  
Leaving Andrew with the pack, Neil headed off.

He felt nervous, like he was eleven again, tethered to his mother and too afraid to go further into the woods to hunt alone. This time it was Andrew, though, who kept him in a twenty, maybe thirty meters hunting space.  
He climbed onto a tree and watched his surroundings for movement, while he whistled with Andrew back and forth, reassured every time Andrew’s answer came.  
Soon, Neil had two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. He decided it was enough, he could still set snares and maybe get some fish should it be necessary. With Andrew’s other supplies this should suffice.

Neil whistled, but received no response. Frowning, he tried it again, but Andrew did not answer him. He just decided to run the way back, when suddenly the cannon went off.  
Losing all reasoning for staying silent, he changed into a full out sprint and shouted, “Andrew!”  
He broke through the brush and found Andrew’s jacket laid out on the ground with a few blueberries on it. But where was he?  
A rustle of leaves and Neil sent almost an arrow through him, but Neil let go in the last moment. Andrew looked at him unimpressed, backpack in one hand and filled with more berries.

“The cannon! Where were you?” Neil panted out and gestured wildly around. “You didn’t answer!”  
“Calm down, I just got rid of an annoying pursuer.” He set the backpack on the ground and put the berries from his jacket into the pack. Taken aback, Neil blinked at him confused.  
“But the cannon—you did what?”  
Andrew pointed behind him. “Five was tailing me and thought she could steal from our supplies. So I put some of the those,” he held up what looked like a blueberry, but squashed between his fingers it’s juice and fruit flesh were bloody red, “into the mix. Worked faster than I thought,” he said indifferently.  
Neil stared at him, then his eyes wandered to the jacket where the very same berries had been laid out just a second before.

“That was—you’re amazing,” he blurted out. He really had lured the girl from 5 into a trap. The smart, sly girl from 5 who had found a way around the mines that had surrounded the pyramid, who had hid in the Cornucopia and had just run off with her pack. Neil was pretty sure she had been the smartest of the tributes, her cleverness had brought her in a spot under the last five tributes after all. But now he looked at Andrew and saw someone who had outsmarted the smartest of them.

“Careful Neil, people might think you don’t care I just killed a girl in cold blood.” But he really didn’t care how the other tributes died. Robin had been something else, Robin had helped him. She was… a friend. Robin was like Allison, like Nicky and Roland. Like Andrew. The girl from 5 was just another person that had died after he had crossed paths with her.  
“You didn’t kill her in cold blood,” he said. “You did it so we could live. It’s either them or us, you know.”  
Andrew looked at him, an almost invisible frown on his face. “Well, Gorilla knows where we are now,” Neil said when Andrew didn’t respond. A hovercraft appeared only a hundred meters or so away and lifted what was left of the girl’s emaciated body into the air.

“Let’s make a fire then,” Andrew said and began to gather branches and brush.  
“Are you ready to face him?” Neil asked.  
“I’m ready to eat. We cook the food while we still have the chance. If he knows we’re here, he knows. He also knows we’re two and he assumes we were hunting Five. Fire means we’re not hiding, we’re inviting him here. Would you show up?” he paused a moment, “that was a bad comparison. You wouldn’t even show up if I’d be half dead, too afraid I could still catch you, rabbit.”

“You’re a real comedian, anyone ever told you that?” Neil said deadpanned and helped Andrew with the fire.  
In no time they had the rabbits and squirrel roasting, the roots, wrapped in leaves, baking in the coals. They kept a careful watch for Gorilla, but as Andrew had anticipated, he didn’t make an appearance. When the food was cooked, Neil packed most of it up, leaving them each a rabbit’s leg to eat as they walked.

They took the same way back, walking through the stream that had dropped considerably and moved at its old leisurely pace.  
It was a long walk back to the cave, even going downwards. By the time they reached their destination, their feet were dragging and the sun sat low on the horizon.  
They filled up their water bottles and climbed down to their den.  
Neil couldn’t even offer to take the first turn for watch, when Andrew already ordered him to go sleeping. Too tired to carry his sleeping bag to its old place, they weren’t required to share such a close space now that it had stopped raining and it wasn’t so cold anymore, Neil only just touched the ground and he passed out.

Andrew woke him sometime during twilight and told him to switch places. It was the first time Andrew actually asked Neil to keep watch while he was sleeping. Neil didn’t say anything about it, though, and let Andrew rest while he crawled to the cave’s entrance and watched the sun slowly rise.  
He thought about Gorilla who was out there, looking for them. For some reason he had had it out for Neil since the beginning, most likely he had not taken it well when Neil had outscored him in training. Neil thought of his ridiculous reaction to finding the supplies blown up. The others had been upset, of course, but he had been completely unhinged. Maybe he was not entirely sane.

Sure, he was powerful, well trained, but smart? Neil somehow doubted it. At least he wasn’t like the girl from 5 or Andrew. And he sure as hell did not possess their control. Gorilla seemed like a person that would easily lose his judgment in a fit of temper. Not that Neil had any reason to feel superior on that point. Gorilla hadn’t sent a knife flying at Riko and Tetsuji or told the Capitol on television that they were all disgusting.

It was already afternoon when Andrew woke. Neil didn’t even notice him until he stood right next to him and looked into the bright hot afternoon light.  
“How long do you think we’ll have before the Gamemakers drive us together?” Neil asked, accepting a few berries Andrew offered him.  
“Five died almost a day ago, so there’s been enough time for the audience to place bets and get bored. So probably at any moment,” said Andrew.  
Neil looked up to him and watched how his hair turned almost white in the sun, just like on the day of the Reaping. “Yeah, I have a feeling today’s the day,” he said and stood up to look out at the peaceful terrain. “I wonder how they’ll do it.”  
Andrew remained silent.

“Let’s eat as much as we can hold just in case we run into trouble,” Neil said. “We could go hunting again afterwards.”  
Andrew packed up their gear while Neil laid out a big meal. The rest of the rabbits, roots, berries and nuts. The only thing he left in reserve was the squirrel and some more roots.

By the time they were done, all that was left was a pile of rabbit bones. Neil’s hands were greasy, which only added to his growing feeling of grubbiness. Except for his feet and face which he had washed just yesterday in the stream, he was covered in a layer of grime. Not much left of the boy on fire, Roland had so carefully cleaned up.

Leaving the cave had a sense of finality about it. They both didn’t think there would be another night in the arena. One way or the other, dead or alive, Neil had the feeling he would escape it today.  
He touched the cool rocks of their temporarily home one last time and they headed down to the stream to wash up. Neil could feel his skin itching for the cold water and thought about scrubbing his scalp clean when they reached the stream. Or what used to be a stream.  
Now there was only a bone-dry bed. Neil put his hand down to feel it.

“Not even a little damp. They must have drained it while we slept,” he said. Their bottle were fairly full, but with two drinking and the hot sun, it wouldn’t take long to deplete them.  
“The lake,” said Andrew. “That’s where they want us to go.”  
There really was no sense in avoiding the inevitable. The Gamemakers wanted them to be out in the open, without any cover and a guaranteed bloody fight to death with nothing to block their view.

Neil felt his heart hammering against his chest. He looked over to where Andrew was standing and waited a moment for Andrew to return his look. “You have this look again,” he said. “Follow me this time.”  
Neil stood up. It was almost like the first day of the Games again. He was in the same position. Twenty-one tributes were dead, but he still had to kill Gorilla.  
But no, there was someone waiting besides him. Andrew’s hand grasped Neil’s neck and squeezed the skin there lightly.

“Stop looking like prey. You’re a hunter, Neil.”  
“Next time we eat, it will be in the Capitol,” Neil said. Andrew’s thumb pressed down on the spot under his ear and Neil couldn’t help but shiver slightly at that.

Then without a word, Andrew let go and they headed for the lake.

 

Given their late start to the day, when they reached the plain it was already early evening. There was no sign of Gorilla. No sign of anything except the gold Cornucopia glowing in the slanting sun rays.  
Just in case Gorilla decided to pull a similar trick like the girl from 5 on them, they circled the Cornucopia to make sure it was empty. Then they crossed to the lake and filled their water containers. Neil also washed his hands and splashed some water on his face.

They sat by the lake, in full sight. There was no point in hiding now, if the Gamemakers wanted their showdown they would get it.  
“What are you going to do once you win?” Andrew asked him suddenly. “Won’t he be there for the victory ceremony?” There was only one person Andrew could mean, and it was risky to start talking about Neil’s father right now, or anytime actually. Intently, Neil stared over the lake as he said, “He won’t be there. Never cared enough about any of this.”  
Andrew hummed, “Initially, I thought you were even stupider than I’ve imagined. But there is some truth in the safety of hiding in plain sight.”  
Neil turned his head to Andrew and tried to force him to shut up with his glare. Everyone was watching them right now, this was the finale! Andrew ignored it, though, like always. “No more running for you, fox boy. You’ll be famous.”  
Neil knew this. He didn’t want to hear about it.

For a while they sat in silence. Neil listened to Andrew’s breathing and felt himself relax despite sitting out in the open, waiting for a gorilla to kill him. Then something began to disrupt the silence. Bird’s voices rose up in a shrieking cry of alarm.

They were on their feet, Andrew holding two knives, Neil poised to shoot, when Gorilla smashed through the trees and bore down on them. He had no sword or spear. In fact, his hands were empty, yet he ran straight for them.  
Neil’s first arrow hit his chest and inexplicably fell aside. “He’s got a body armor!” Andrew actually shouted at Neil and suddenly pushed him out of the way. But Gorilla raced right past them with no attempt to check his speed. Neil could tell from his panting, the sweat pouring off his purplish face, that he had been running hard a long time. Not towards them. From something.

Neil’s eyes scanned the woods just in time to see the first creature leap on to the meadow. As he was turning away, he saw another half-dozen join it. Then Andrew dragged him away and Neil followed him blindly.

Muttations. No question about it. Neil had never seen these mutts, but they were no natural-born animals. They resembled huge wolves, but what wolf landed and then balanced easily on its hind legs? What wolf waved the rest of the pack forwards with its front paw as though it had a wrist? These things he could see at a distance. Up closer, Neil was sure their more menacing attributes would be revealed.

Gorilla had made a beeline for the Cornucopia, and Andrew dragged Neil right along. If he thought it was the safest place, who were Andrew and Neil to argue?  
They reached the pointed tail of the Cornucopia and Andrew interlocked his fingers to give Neil a leg-up. He scrambled to the top of the horn and immediately turned around to help Andrew up. The mutts were right on his heels, and Neil shot an arrow down the throat of the closest mutt. As it died, the creature lashed out, inadvertently opening gashes on a few of its companions. That was when Neil got a look at the claws. Ten centimeters and clearly razor-sharp.

Neil grabbed for Andrew’s hand and pulled him up. Then he remembered Gorilla waiting at the top and whipped around, but he was doubled over with cramps and apparently more preoccupied with the mutts than with Andrew and Neil. He coughed out something unintelligible. The snuffling, growling sound coming from the mutts wasn’t helping.  
Neil lost his temper just then. “What?” he shouted at Gorilla.  
“He said, ‘Can they climb it?’” answered Andrew calmly, drawing Neil’s focus back to the base of the horn.

The mutts were beginning to assemble. As they joined together, they rose up again to stand easily on their back legs, giving them an eerily human quality. Each had a thick coat, some with fur that was straight and sleek, others curly, and the colors varied from jet black to what Neil could only describe as blond.  
There was something about them, something that made his hair rose up on the back of his neck.

They put their snouts on the horn, sniffing and tasting the metal, scraping paws over the surface and then howling to one another. They communicated with each other.  
Suddenly the pack backed up as if to make room. Then one of them, a good-sized mutt with silky blond fur, took a running start and leapt on to the horn. It almost made it, its paws scrabbling at the edge before it fell down again, its pink lips pulled back in a snarl. Next time it would reach them.  
For a moment Neil’s eyes met the creature’s, and in that moment he realized what unsettled him about the mutts. The green eyes glowered at him unlike any dog or wolf, any canine he’d ever seen. They were unmistakably human.

The revelation hit him at the same time he noticed the collar with the number 1 inlaid with jewels. Green eyes, blonde hair, the number. It was Blondie from District 1.  
Neil stumbled back. That was when a knife hit Blondie, no the creature, in its eye. Its body twitched and flopped to the ground with a thud.

“It’s them,” Neil muttered in disbelief. Next to him, Andrew prepared the next knife. “No, it’s not,” he said coolly. But Neil’s head snapped from side to side as he examined the pack, taking in various sizes and colors. A small one with red coat and amber eyes, it was the girl from District 5. And there, the dark-brown hair and dark eyes of Jack. And the worst of all, the smallest mutt, with a black curly fur, huge brown eyes and a collar that read 11. Robin.  
“What did they do to them?” Neil asked Andrew. Had they been given any of the real tributes’ memories? Had they been programmed to hate the remaining tributes’ faces particularly because they had survived and they had been so callously murdered?

Andrew couldn’t answer him, as the mutts began a new assault on the horn. A pair of teeth rung together just centimeters from Neil’s leg, but Andrew threw another knife at its throat.  
They dragged themselves towards the top, where the lesser of two evils awaited them.

Gorilla was still panting, but he would be recovered soon enough to come for them, to hurl them over the side to their deaths.  
Neil armed his bow, but got distracted by one of the mutts that jumped incredibly high, almost reaching them. His arrow shot it down, Amal probably, who else could jump this high? Neil felt a moment of relief because they were over the mutt’s line to reach them, when suddenly the bow was knocked from his hand and he found himself held in a headlock by Gorilla, cutting off his air.

They faced Andrew who held two knives, ready to throw at Gorilla’s head. Gorilla just laughed. “Kill me and he goes down with me.”  
He was right. If Andrew took him out and he fell to the mutts, Neil was sure to die with him. They had reached a stalemate. Gorilla couldn’t kill Neil without guaranteeing a knife in his brain, and Andrew couldn’t kill Gorilla without killing Neil, too. That was, of course, only if Andrew cared.  
Neil felt his head becoming dizzy without air. Andrew blurred in front of his eyes, but his usual blank face showed a hint of hot white fury. Slowly, Neil raised his fingers up to Gorilla’s arm. He wouldn’t stand a chance wrestling it off, but he managed to draw a deliberate X with his forefinger on Gorilla’s hand.

Gorilla realized what it meant exactly one second after Andrew. It was one second too late, though, because, by that time, Andrew’s knife was piercing his hand. He cried out and reflexively released Neil, who slammed back against him.  
For a long moment, Neil thought they were both going over, but Andrew had already dived forward, just catching hold of Neil’s collar as Gorilla lost his footing and plummeted to the ground.

Neil heard him hit, the air leaving his body on impact, and then the mutts attacked him. Andrew pulled him further away from the edge and they waited for the cannon. For the competition to finish. To be released.  
But it didn’t happen. Not yet. Because this was the climax of the Hunger Games, and the audience expected a show.

Neil didn’t watch, but he could hear the snarls, the growls, the howls of pain from both human and beast as Gorilla took on the mutt pack. Neil remembered the body armor protecting Gorilla’s body, he had felt it when he had been pressed against him. He was covered from ankle to neck and Neil realized what a long night this could become.

Gorilla must have a knife or sword or something, too, something he had hidden in his clothes, because on occasion there was the death scream of a mutt.  
The combat moved around the Cornucopia. Neil didn’t know how long it had been, but in the end, despite his remarkable strength and skill, Gorilla was simply overpowered.

He hit the ground and they could hear the mutts dragging him, dragging him back into the Cornucopia. Now they would finally finish him off, Neil thought impatiently. But there was still no cannon.

Night fell and the anthem played and there was no picture of Gorilla in the sky, only faint moans coming through the metal beneath Neil and Andrew.  
The air got icy cold and Neil was reminded that the Games were not over and may not be for who knows how long.

Andrew sat down beside him and together they looked over the dark meadow to the lake. After a while Neil started to shake as the cold was creeping through his jacket and down to his bones. He pulled his hood over his head, but it did little to keep the cold out.  
“We need to share heat,” Andrew said next to him. “Or Two might still win.”  
“Are you sure?” Neil asked with chattering teeth.  
Andrew didn’t answer him, but slid behind Neil so Neil was with his back to his chest and Andrew’s legs to his left and right. Andrew unzipped his jacket and fastened it around Neil who held it as far as possible together in front of him. Then Andrew wrapped his arms around him, while Neil kept his hands to himself.

“Is this okay?” he asked as the shaking in his body slowly subsided. “I mean, your back is unprotected and—” Andrew pinched Neil’s arm slightly, “Shut up.”

The next hours were probably the worst in his life, which, if he really thought about it, was saying something. The cold was torture enough already, but listening to Gorilla, moaning, begging and finally just whimpering as the mutts worked away on him, was nerve-wracking.  
“Why don’t they just kill him?” Neil asked Andrew, clenching his jaw.  
“You know why,” Andrew said.  
And Neil knew. No viewer could turn away from the show now. From the Gamemaker’s point of view, this was the final word in entertainment. Hot anger welled up in Neil.

It went on and on and on and eventually completely consumed Neil’s mind, blocking out memories, erasing everything but the present, which he slowly began to believe would never change. There would never be anything but cold and fear and anger and the agonized sounds of the boy dying in the horn. Until Neil felt completely numb. There was nothing in him left to care or to feel.

The only indication of the passage of time lay in the sky, the subtle shift of the moon. Andrew pointed it out to him and started to rattle off constellations in a bored voice as if he had memorized them at one point in his life and only had to look for the information in his head.

Finally, the sun was rising. Neil opened his eyes, he couldn’t remember ever closing them, and found the stars fading in the pale light of dawn.  
Still no cannon had fired. “How good is your aim?” Andrew asked and Neil understood. Stiffly, he stood up, missing the warmth of Andrew’s body instantly. He rubbed his hands together, trying to regain circulation. First, he wanted to go for the bow. But then he changed his mind, he would need a one-hundred percent result now. He took Robin’s knife from his belt and crawled to the lip of the horn, hanging over the edge. Behind him, Andrew’s hands gripped him for support.

It took Neil a few moments to find Gorilla in the dim light, in the blood. Then the raw hunk of meat that had been a human once made a sound and he knew where his mouth was.  
Neil had no problem throwing the knife at his skull, killing him once and for all.  
Andrew pulled him back and the cannon fired.

“Looks like we won,” Andrew said.  
“I am so happy,” Neil said blankly.  
A hole opened in the meadow and, as if on cue, the remaining mutts bound into it, disappearing as earth closed above them.  
They waited for the hovercraft to take Gorilla’s remains, for the trumpets of victory that should follow, but nothing happened.  
“Maybe it’s the body,” Neil mused, “Maybe we have to move away from it.”

They inched down to the tail of the horn and fell to the ground, from there they walked to the lake. Neil scooped up a handful of water and they both drank.  
And the hovercraft to retrieve Gorilla’s body appeared for real. Now they would take them. Now they could leave.

But again, no response. Until suddenly the announcer’s voice boomed into the arena.  
“Greetings to the final contestants of the Thirty-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed,” he said. “Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor.”  
There was small burst of static and then nothing more.

Neil stared at Andrew in disbelief as the truth sunk in. They had never intended to let them both live. This had all been devised by the Gamemakers to guarantee the most dramatic showdown in history. And like a fool, Neil had bought into it. Riko Moriyama would go down in history as a genius Gamemaker because he had pulled Neil’s strings like a puppeteer.

“Why am I not surprised,” Andrew said, expression bored. Neil stared at him, then approached slowly. Andrew had still several knives under his armbands, while Neil had only one left. “You should do it,” he said, instead of going for his knife.  
Andrew had many reasons to live, he had his brother, his cousin, Renee and Wymack. He had Abby and Bee at home. Neil had nothing and no one. He was nothing.  
“I should do what?” asked Andrew, a sharpness in his voice that betrayed his blank look.  
“You should win. So kill me.” Neil pointed at his heart. “Make it quick.”

“Oh Neil,” Andrew said, going over to his backpack at the lakeside. “I told you, no one wants your martyr bullshit.” He pulled out a few berries. He crushed one between his fingers and his skin got dyed in a bloody red. “How about a double suicide? Romantic, isn’t it?”  
Neil blinked. He didn’t understand what Andrew was getting at. Andrew took his hand and filled it with a few of the toxic berries. “If they don’t want us both, they get none. It’s easy like that.” And Neil understood. They needed a victor. Without a victor, the whole thing would blow up in the Gamemakers' faces. They would have failed the Capitol. 

“On the count of three?” he asked. Andrew nodded. They looked at each other, Neil saw Andrew’s freckles in the morning light, then he smiled. “One,” he began to count. If Andrew was wrong he didn’t really care anymore. “Two,” he wouldn’t die alone at least. “Three.”  
It was too late to change his mind now and he lifted his hand to his mouth, taking one last look at the world. The berries had just passed his lips when the trumpets began to blare.

The frantic voice of the announcer shouted above them. “Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Thirty-fourth Hunger Games, Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten! I give you – the tributes of District 12!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used the sharing-body-heat trope. I am guilty. I knew Andrew wouldn't touch Neil in the safety of the cave but once you're sitting out in the open where it's freezing, you just gotta snatch the closest pretty boy you can find to keep you warm.  
> Also ngl the muttation scene in the book is so much more horrifying than in the movie. Initially I wanted to use the movie's scene because it's shorter and I am lazy, but then I read it in the book and it's so ??? They sit there all night long and listen to Cato slowly being eaten how fucked up is that. And people watch that. Think it's entertaining. ????


	10. Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter of part 1! We did it!  
> Neil has a few Overdramatic moments in here which I personally relate very much to. Also every time I describe what they are wearing I have to remind myself that this is from Neil's pov and the boy does not care!! At all!! But honestly a lot in the thg books relies on the fashion so I had to find some sort of middle ground. (I accidentally picked an IKEA color scheme for them tho I don't know why)  
> Extra warning for this chapter: Riko.

Neil spewed the berries from his mouth, wiping his tongue with the sleeve of his jacket to make sure no juice remained. Andrew pulled him to the lake, where they both flushed their mouths with water and then Neil collapsed on the ground, arms spread out like wings.  
“You didn’t swallow any?” he asked Andrew.  
“If so, you would know by now,” he said. Neil couldn’t respond to it because of the roar of the crowd in the Capitol that they were playing live over the speakers.

The hovercraft materialized overhead and two ladders dropped. Andrew helped Neil up, and as they approached the ladders, Neil couldn’t let go of Andrew. He clutched the back of his jacket which made Andrew arch a brow, but ultimately said nothing about it. They each placed a foot on the first rung of the ladder and the electric current froze them in place.  
Neil didn’t understand why he couldn’t let go, but he felt like someone would take Andrew from him if he didn’t hold on to him. They already had wanted to kill them after they had promised not to. He wouldn’t take any chances with the Capitol anymore.

A woman led them to a room with a glass door that slid shut behind them. Still grabbing Andrew’s jacket, Neil slumped down on the floor and forced Andrew to go with him. Some Capitol attendant appeared and offered them each a beverage.  
Blinking, Neil stared uncomprehendingly at the crystal glass in his hand. Icy cold, filled with orange juice, a straw with a frilly white collar. It looked so wrong in his filthy hand with dirt-caked nails and scars.  
His mouth watered at the smell, but he placed it carefully on the floor, not trusting anything so clean and pretty. Much less as it came from the Capitol.

He worked the fabric of Andrew’s jacket between his fingers absentmindedly while staring through the glass door where other people looked over to them every so often from whatever they were doing.  
He startled when he caught someone staring at him from only a few centimeters away and then realized it was his own face reflecting back in the glass. Wild eyes, hollow cheeks, his hair a tangled mat. Rabid. Feral. Mad. No wonder everyone was keeping a safe distance from them. Andrew’s hand found his neck and Neil glanced at him. His hair was dark from all the grime and he had a few scratches over his pale cheeks. He didn’t look at Neil, but Neil could feel his fingers pressing down and as an answer he tugged at Andrew’s jacket.

Hours could have passed or only seconds when they finally landed back on the roof of the Training Center. They took a ladder back down together as Neil was still not ready to let go, and then he saw them.

Nicky had both hands pressed over his mouth as actual tears ran over his cheeks and even Wymack and Renee looked like they had to control themselves to not appear crying in front of them. Aaron had his arms crossed over his chest, face pale and tight-lipped. Roland smiled at them and Allison had a death grip on Renee’s hand, she looked like she wanted to lunge forwards and Neil was glad she restrained herself. Kevin of course didn’t care as much. He was in their faces the very next second and before Neil knew what was happening he was shoved behind Andrew who pressed a knife to Kevin’s throat.

Kevin went pale and from around them guards came running, yelling something. Neil didn’t care for them, didn’t care for any of them. He simply stared at Andrew who was still half in the arena, ready to kill everything that approached him – them. He was still set to protect Neil.  
“We can go home now,” Neil said cautiously, as if he had to taste the words in his mouth first. Andrew glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Then, he let the knife sink and Kevin could breathe again. Wymack and Renee had kept the guards at bay in the meantime.  
With pursed lips Kevin examined them and simply said, “I knew you would make it,” before turning away and leaving the roof first.

“Let’s go and get you cleaned up,” Wymack said next. He followed Kevin and Andrew gave them all a warning look. “No one comes closer.”  
Neil could see Nicky and Allison wanted to protest, but Renee tapped them lightly on their shoulders and smiled. Of course they would assault him later, Neil knew as much and to his surprise he didn’t dread it as much as he probably should. But right now he didn’t want to see any of them. He wanted to be alone. To think about what had just happened to him. Or preferably to forget it all together.  
Still clutching Andrew’s jacket he went down with him and to the now completely empty Training Center. Their suite would be the only one occupied.

When Andrew went straight past his room, Roland called out to him, but Andrew only waved his hand dismissively, and said without turning around, “I need to talk about something with Neil.”  
They went into Neil’s room and Andrew closed the door behind them. For the very first time since they had entered the arena, they were alone together. Bloody and filthy, with more injuries than they could count. Neil was exhausted. He’d love nothing better than to just crawl into the silky sheets, bloody shirt and muddy boots still on.

For a moment they regarded each other, two animals that had been trapped together and had fought tooth and nail to stay alive. Now they didn’t really know what to do with each other.  
After a few seconds, Andrew gestured to Neil’s shirt. “Show me.”  
Neil knew immediately what he meant. The promise he had made in exchange for Andrew to eat and regaining his power.

Neil hesitated, then unzipped his jacket and took it off. He bit his lip, but struggled obediently out of the shirt that was stiff from all the filth on it. His arms were sore and his back acted up again, after a moment Andrew got tired of watching him and tugged the shirt loose. He tossed it off to one side and didn’t look to see where it landed. He was more interested in the scars and bruises covering Neil’s front.

Neil only spared a brief glance to his naked torso, before dragging his eyes up to Andrew’s face. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, pity and disgust were no emotions Andrew possessed. And indeed, Andrew looked a thousand years from all of this, detached and unconcerned.

On Neil’s right shoulder was a burn scar, courtesy of getting smacked with a hot iron. Andrew put his left hand to it, fingertips lining up perfectly with the raised bumps the iron’s holes had left behind. His right thumb found the puckered flesh from a bullet.

“Someone shot you,” Andrew said.  
“I have a wild life,” Neil said.  
“This,” Andrew dug his finger harder into the iron mark, “is not from a life on the run.”  
“I told you who I was running from. That’s just one of the many reasons why.”  
Andrew was quiet a long time, then dropped his hand to the lashes across Neil’s gut. Those he had felt before. “Is this the reason why you lied about your affiliation with knives?”  
“I never understood his fascination with blades, to be honest,” Neil said. Andrew hummed noncommittally at that and stepped away. He took Neil in his entirety once more in, then turned to go.

“Who is Drake?” The question was out before Neil could think any better of it. Andrew froze with his back to him, hand placed on the door handle. “Not today,” he said and left.  
Neil’s eyes fell on the dirty shirt on the floor that looked so out of place between all the clean and shiny furniture. Andrew’s words suggested Neil had to ask another time, but his tone had told him to leave it. Either way, for today and the following few days he had enough things to contemplate about.

There was usually a lag of a few days between the end of the competition and the presentation of the victor – in their case victors – so that they could put the starving, wounded mess of a person back together again. Somewhere Roland would be creating their wardrobes for the public appearances. Wymack, Renee and Allison would be arranging the banquet for their sponsors, reviewing the questions for their final interviews.  
And Neil, Neil snatched a simple black cotton t-shirt from the wardrobe and fresh underwear and took the longest shower of his life.

When he returned to his room, still wet and smelling of mint, Roland already waited for him. He silently gestured for Neil to sit down and started to work on his hair, nails and even eyebrows. For a moment his finger touched the burn on his left cheekbone, then he resumed to his work. He didn’t say anything and Neil gradually drifted into a deep relaxation, until he suddenly heard lout shouts from somewhere in the suite.  
He thought he could make out Wymack’s booming voice, he seemed to be very angry.

“Doctors will see next to you, Neil,” Roland said gently when he was done. He gave Neil soft trousers to wear and went to the door. He stopped there for a moment, then turned around and said, “You exceeded all expectations.” He left without congratulating him on the win and the twenty-two dead tributes that involved.

Next, a group of five doctors saw to him. Neil refused to undress and they didn’t argue much. He had to lie down for an infusion, though, and had them working on the scratches on his hands, arms and in his face. When they asked if he wanted the burn on his face removed, he told them no. Let the people see that he hadn’t come out unharmed.  
After that, he fell instantly in a dreamless sleep. They had probably put something in the IV bag next to the bed.

The next two days passed with him sleeping and eating small meals. His stomach seemed to be shrunk to the size of a chestnut as he struggled to keep down a bowl of clear broth, a small serving of apple sauce, and a glass of water.  
On the third day, Neil finally got up. He was nervous about how his legs would bear his weight, but he found them strong and steady. The skin on his arms and hands was perfection, smooth and glowing. He touched his forehead, where Raven Girl had hit him with a knife over his eyebrow, and felt not even the faint scar. It was honestly scary what they were capable of. Only the burn was left.

Lying at the foot of the bed was an outfit that made him flinch. It was what all of the tributes had worn in the arena. He stared at it, thinking about just ditching it and wearing whatever he wanted, but then he remembered that, of course, he had to wear it to officially greet his team. This was all show for the audience, so he looked refreshed and healthy after leaving the arena. No one would see recordings of the meeting on the roof where both, he and Andrew, had looked like feral animals, wounded and ready to attack.

Neil was dressed in less than a minute, and opened the door. He heard voices from the sitting room and then he saw them. Really saw them. Not through several layers of exhaustion, fear and adrenaline. He saw them as Neil, and as people that had supported him despite everything.

This time he couldn’t fend off Allison and Nicky who leapt at him, sandwiching him between their arms. Renee touched his shoulder, but then she smiled brightly and Neil allowed her to come close as well. Wymack ruffled through his hair and muttered, “Nice job.” Kevin and Aaron stayed a little apart from them, until Nicky dragged them both closer and told them to not be so cranky. Of course, the absence of one member of the team didn’t go unnoticed by Neil.

“Where’s Andrew?” he asked, feeling anxiety welling up inside him.  
“He’s fine. Only they want to do your reunion live on air at the ceremony,” said Wymack.  
“Oh,” was all Neil could say. The awful moment of thinking something had happened to Andrew passed. Roland entered the room then, looking over to Wymack and nodded. “Go on with Roland. He has to get you ready,” Wymack told him, and Roland guided Neil back to his room, away from the cameras.

His room had been cleaned in the short time he had spent with the others. Only Roland’s work material was spread out over a dressing table, and a suit bag lay on the now neatly made bed. Roland took care of the showering settings for him and told him how to wash his hair and to wear a thin, white shirt afterwards.

To Neil’s surprise, Roland used almost no make-up on him. He only powdered his skin slightly so it wouldn’t shine under the bright stage light, but that was it. No weird pencil for his eyes. His hair was carefully ruffled to give him a look like he had just woken up. Then, Roland actually highlighted the freckles on his nose and cheek. They didn’t talk at all.  
When he pulled out his costume for the ceremony, Neil was even more stunned. It was a simple yellow shirt, black trousers and black, heavy boots.

“Have you given up on the whole ‘boy on fire’ thing?” Neil asked.  
“You tell me,” he said and helped Neil pulling the shirt on. It was cut to hide what hunger had stolen from his body. He frowned and looked to Roland. “I know,” he said before Neil could say anything. “But the Gamemakers wanted to alter you surgically. Wymack had a huge fight with them over it. This was the compromise.” He looked Neil over. “Ready?”  
Neil was not, but he hadn’t been for a long while now, so he only shrugged.

Roland pulled the veil from the mirror.  
He was still the boy on fire. The yellow fabric glowed practically. It was in perfect contrast to his black hair, blue eyes and through the arena even more darkened skin. Without all the glimmer and make-up and his now very prominent freckles, he looked younger. He didn’t look like eighteen and like someone who had just killed other kids for his own survival. He looked like a boy. Harmless. _Soft and cute_ , Lola words echoed through his head. He resisted the urge to rub over his nose and cheeks.

This was a very calculated look. Nothing Roland designed was arbitrary. Neil bit his lip, trying to figure out his motivation.  
“I thought it’d be something more… sophisticated-looking,” he said.  
Roland said nothing for a second. “I thought Andrew would like this better,” he answered then carefully.

Andrew? Andrew wouldn’t even care if he walked on stage stark-naked. This wasn’t about Andrew. It was about the Capitol and the Gamemakers and the audience. Although Neil did not yet understand Roland’s design, it was a reminder that the Games were not quite finished. And beneath his benign reply, he sensed a warning. Of something he didn’t dare to mention out loud.

The team was already gone when they came out of Neil’s room. They had taken Andrew with them, so Neil and Roland took the elevator to the level where they had trained.  
The stage for the ceremony had been built in front of the Training Center, so that as many Capitol residents as possible could watch.  
It was customary for the victor and their support team to rise from beneath the stage. First the escort with the plus one of the tribute, followed by the stylist, the mentor and finally the victor. Only this year, with two victors who shared both an escort and their mentors, the whole thing had to be rethought.

Neil found himself in a poorly lit area under the stage. A brand-new metal plate had been installed to transport him upwards, just like in the arena.  
Roland peeled off to change into his own costume and to take his position, leaving Neil alone. In the gloom, he saw a makeshift wall about ten meters away and assumed Andrew was behind it.

The rumbling of the crowd was loud, so Neil didn’t notice Renee until she touched his shoulder. He sprang away, startled.  
“I’m sorry, it’s just me,” Renee said and smiled apologetically. She gave him a quick once over. “You’re looking good.” Neil blinked, but returned the compliment automatically. He supposed she was fine looking, in a dress that matched her hair. Soft rainbow colors.  
Renee smiled, but her eyes shifted around in Neil’s musty holding space, and then she seemed to make a decision. “Is it okay for you if I hug you? For good luck?”

Now, Neil was really bewildered. Something was off. She wasn’t someone who initiated contact if the other person was clearly not feeling comfortable with it. Neil knew how to read all the warning signs since he had been old enough to think. And here they were practically screaming at him.  
He nodded, “Why not?”

The second Neil put his arms around her back, she started to talk, very fast, very quietly in his ear, his hair concealing her lips.  
“Listen, you’re in trouble. Word is the Capitol’s furious about Andrew and you showing them up in the arena. The one thing they can’t stand is being laughed at, and right now they’re the joke of Panem,” said Renee.

Neil felt dread coursing through him, the Capitol only sends one man after people they thought trouble. He tried to calm down and asked her, “So what?”  
“You have to carry Andrew and yourself out of this. Make them believe your relationship to him. I don’t know what angle you will use, try lovers, or best friends. A bond so strong, that Andrew couldn’t live without you. He wasn’t responsible for his actions with the berries. He couldn’t lose you.”  
She pulled back and held Neil at arm’s length on his shoulders, smiling brightly at him. But he saw the sharp edge to it. “Everything okay?” she asked cheerily.  
“I’m fine,” Neil said and she let go. Then she nodded, “Better take our places now,” and disappeared into the gloom.

Neil didn’t realize he had started to shake like a leaf until he tried to straighten the front of his shirt and couldn’t stop his hands from trembling.  
The damp, moldy smell beneath the stage threatened to choke him. A cold, clammy sweat broke out on his skin. When he and Andrew had left the arena, when the trumpets had played, they were supposed to be safe. From then on. Maybe even for the rest of his life. Andrew had said as much, there was safety in hiding in plain sight. Not much his father could do without making a big fuss about it, and then he would have to explain how his supposed to be dead wife and child had stolen money from the Capitol, without him ever reporting it.

Neil knew Andrew had planned the stunt with the berries from the very beginning. Since the announcement. He hadn’t trusted the Capitol, and the Capitol didn’t like it that he had used the Hunger Games, their weapon against the districts, against them. And Andrew had won.  
While this was at least subtle, Neil had outright told them they were disgusting and the funeral for Robin, another tribute he should have just killed and be done with, seemed like a little rebellion itself. Now, his only chance was to play their relationship right. The people wanted lovers, but Neil had no idea how to play a lover. He also had no idea what best friends were supposed to be like.  
He swallowed dryly. Maybe it was enough if he just tried to protect Andrew. The truth, after all, was that he really wanted to do that.

 

The anthem boomed in Neil’s ears, and then he heard Kathy Ferdinand greeting the audience.  
Did she know how crucial it was to get every word right from now on? She had to. But Neil remembered her prying questions that were far too personal. She wouldn’t help them.

The crowd broke into applause as Allison was presented with Nicky and Aaron in tow. Roland received huge cheers, of course, he had been brilliant with his dazzling debut.  
Neil understood now Roland’s choice of dress for him tonight. He needed to look as boyish and guiltless as possible.  
Wymack’s and Renee’s appearance brought a round of stomping that went on for at least five minutes. Well, they had accomplished a first. Keeping not only one but two tributes alive.  
What if she hadn’t warned him in time? Would Neil have acted differently? Flaunted the moment with the berries in Riko’s and therefore the Capitol’s face? He was not sure. His temper liked to flare up in the most inconvenient of times.  
He still had no plan on how to convince the Capitol that he and Andrew had not tried to discredit them publicly – even though _that_ was kind of a lie. But Neil was good at lying and he really had to, because he could feel the plate lifting him up on stage.

Blinding lights. The deafening roar rattled the metal under his feet. Then there was Andrew just a few meters away. He looked so clean and healthy, Neil could hardly recognize him.  
They stared at each other and before Neil knew what he was doing, he walked up to Andrew to take a closer look. He lifted his hand to touch the spot where the bruise had been that could have blinded him. He stopped, though, shy of touching the now flawless skin.  
“Your ear?” he asked in Andrew’s right ear, over the audience’s roar. Andrew simply turned his left ear towards him and said, “I can hear you.”  
He touched Neil’s burn and took it in with a detached expression and that’s when the crowd went insane and Kathy Ferdinand came up to them, laughing with her scary white teeth. She gestured for them to the victor’s chair where they would sit through the whole ceremony.

Usually, it was a single, ornate chair from which the winning tribute watched a film of the highlights of the Games, but since there were two of them, the Gamemakers had provided a plush red velvet couch. A small one; Allison had called it a love seat, Neil thought.  
He and Andrew sat so close to each other that they were pressed together from shoulder to knee. Neil wanted to give Andrew some space, also for his own sake, but it was impossible. There was no room to left or right and should he move a little more he would sit on Andrew’s lap. It was obvious that the audience loved that arrangement, though.

Someone – most likely Roland – had forced Andrew into a shirt in the color of Neil’s eyes. Otherwise he wore the same black trousers and boots as Neil. His face was free of any make-up as well and his hair was actually white under the spotlight. Neil had to force his eyes from Andrew’s face, he still couldn’t believe they were here, together.  
Did Andrew know in how much danger they were in? If so, he probably didn’t care much. He had the annoying habit to look out for everything and everyone, except for himself. Maybe it was a good thing then, that Neil was involved. It could give Andrew better incentives to not offend the Capitol any further. Not that Andrew was the actual problem here.  
Neil could already feel his irritation towards Kathy Ferdinand stir.

She made a few more jokes with the audience and how Neil and Andrew probably needed a moment alone, she actually winked at the crowd while saying that and they all laughed and cheered at her. What was their fucking problem? Why were they so keen on invading Neil’s and Andrew’s privacy?

Then it was time for the show. It would last exactly three hours and was required viewing for all of Panem.  
All the lights dimmed and the seal appeared on the screen, and Neil realized he was unprepared for this. He didn’t want to live through those moments again, it had been enough the first time. His heart started pounding and he had the strong impulse to run. And as always when Neil became overwhelmed and his legs started to twitch, Andrew’s hand found his neck to keep him in place.

Condensing several weeks into three hours was quite a feat, especially if considered how many cameras had been going on at once. Whoever put together the highlights had to choose what sort of story to tell.  
This year, for the first time, they told a story about a relationship. A love story of sorts, but there was not enough indication to make it an obvious romantic one. But the people seemed to like the implication. Neil could still not believe that they would focus on something so trivial when children were literally dying. How could they care what Andrew and he did behind closed doors when a thirteen-year old boy was being impaled right in front of them?

The first half-hour or so focused on the pre-arena events: the Reaping, the chariot ride through the Capitol, their training scores and interviews. Funny enough, they only kept the part of Neil’s interview where he talked about how much Andrew meant to him. There was this sort of upbeat soundtrack playing under it that made it twice as disturbing, because almost everyone on screen was dead.

Once they were in the arena, there was a detailed coverage of the bloodbath, and then the filmmakers basically alternated between shots of tributes dying and shots of Neil and Andrew. For the first time, Neil could watch Robin and Andrew forming an alliance. She had not exaggerated when she had told Neil how Andrew had almost thrown her over a cliff. The second she had pushed him away, he had stopped, though. He had showed her how to hold a knife correctly and where to cut someone to inflict as much damage as possible.  
Neil saw Andrew killing the boy from 4 to save him, how he had carried him to safety and had a dangerous encounter with Gorilla over it. The bruise over his eye had been caused by the elbow of a violently hallucinating Gorilla.

This was followed by Robin cleaning his face from the blood of the District 4 boy and Andrew watching over him while he had fought nightmare after nightmare.  
They played her death in full, the spearing, the knife between Leverett’s eyes, Robin drawing her least breath. And the story. Neil shut down at that. It was way too personal. Andrew’s thumb pressed down harder under his ear, but Neil was too numb to feel anything, suddenly it was like watching complete strangers in another Hunger Games.  
But, of course, he noticed they omitted the part where he had covered her in flowers. Another moment that just smacked of rebellion. But there was a close-up of his chest where his fox paw pin had been afterwards.

Again, they showed Neil fighting during the feast and he could see how scary he had actually looked like. His eyes were eerily blue in his blood covered face on screen and the look in them was more beast than human. He watched himself collapse and Andrew recovering, treating the gash on his forehead, cleaning his face with a wetted jacket sleeve. And how he had combed through his hair one time, absentmindedly watching the rain. Neil hated every single person who had watched them. Who were still watching them.

Objectively, he could see the mutts and Gorilla’s death were as gruesome as ever, but he was beyond caring now. He watched them huddled together, Andrew’s arms wrapped around him, both blue-lipped and shaking from the cold, while Gorilla was dying just beneath them. It felt like it happened to people Neil had never met before.

And then came the moment with the berries. He could hear the audience hushing one another, not wanting to miss anything. The film ended with Neil and Andrew sitting on the floor of the hovercraft, Andrew’s hand in his neck and Neil holding onto his jacket.

The anthem was playing yet again and everyone rose as President Moriyama and his son Ichirou themselves took the stage, followed by a little girl carrying a cushion that held the crown.  
There was only one crown, though, and the audience whispered in confusion – whose head would they place it on? – until Kengo Moriyama gave it a twist and it separated into two halves. He gave Ichirou one half and kept the other to place it around Andrew’s brow with a serious look.  
“Neil Josten,” Ichirou said quietly as he settled the second crown on Neil’s head. “Congratulations.” And Neil knew they were in trouble. They both had to be punished.

Much bowing and cheering followed and finally, Kathy Ferdinand bit the audience goodnight, reminding them to turn in tomorrow for the final interviews. As if they had a choice.

 

Afterwards, Andrew and Neil were whisked to the president’s mansion for the Victory Banquet, and that was when Neil’s panic fully set in.  
Here they would meet particularly generous sponsors, other victors, Gamemakers and Capitol officials.  
His father had no interest in the Games and everything they entailed, but he was never far from Kengo Moriyama. It was very much possible that he wouldn’t attend the banquet himself as the president and Ichirou rarely did so, but his people were all around that place.  
“Will he be there?” Andrew asked him as the car stopped and their driver frantically ran around to open their doors. Neil couldn’t move, only stared at the people pouring through the gate and in the president’s property.

“I don’t think so,” he said slowly, “but his people—”  
“Saw you already in the arena and can’t do anything. Come on now.” Andrew left the car and a second later appeared at Neil’s door and pulled him out. Allison, in a breathtaking dress that looked like she wore actual water, squeezed in between them as they made their way to the door and started to talk. “You guys really made an impression, all of the Capitol wants a piece of you! We only invited half of it, though. This is an exclusive club after all. Also couldn’t you guys give us a smooch or something in the arena? I’ve bet good money on that.”  
Neil gave her a brittle look. “I thought you weren’t allowed to bet.”  
“Nothing official, honey. I bet with Nicky and Aaron that you were not just playing. So we set for a kiss as proof. You can do it anytime, right now for example.”

As Neil and Andrew said nothing, she only rolled her eyes. “Fine, then don’t! Hah, really bought into your ‘I don’t swing’ nonsense at first. Look at you now.” And then she suddenly vanished in a sea of people. Neil’s eyes immediately searched the area for its closest exists and potential threats.

There was no time to eat at all. At least for Neil, Andrew never left his side but didn’t care if his mouth was stuffed with pastries as sponsors and Capitol people came and wanted a picture with them.  
Kevin found them too and followed them around like a nagging chaperone, telling Andrew he should stop being so difficult and Neil how to talk to the people correctly.  
In the end, Kevin did the talking and Neil and Andrew only kept still long enough for pictures.

Andrew had had enough eventually and made his way to the bar, telling Neil to wait with Kevin.  
“You made lots of money with me?” Neil asked him then casually. He remembered Roland telling him how Kevin had bet on him. Kevin, somehow never running out of alcohol in his glass took a sip. “Of course, I’ve placed my money from Day 1 on you.” He sounded annoyingly superior about it, as if he had never doubted Neil’s success.

Suddenly a heavy hand landed on Kevin’s shoulder and someone pushed in between them. “Don’t believe him a word, Neil. He had several near-death experiences, especially when you went for the backpack or wouldn’t stop taunting the big guy from 2.” Matt Boyd grinned at him and next to him Dan and Renee appeared with colorful beverages. “It’s true, I think he went to Coach several times and asked him if he could sent you a note from him that would only consist of insults and death threats,” Dan confirmed with a fake solemn look on her face. They laughed and Kevin glared at them.

“So, where is your other half?” Dan asked curiously, peeking behind Neil’s back as if Andrew would hide there. “You know, contrary to popular belief we are not attached at the hip,” Neil said surly which only gained him another round of laughter and a smile from Renee. Nevertheless, Neil looked around in the crowd for Andrew’s blond locks and found him standing at the bar with Aaron. Aaron was saying something, but Andrew ignored him as always.

“Isn’t it heartwarming, though, to have someone you can trust this much?” Riko Moriyama said from behind him. The other victors became instantly wary, and Kevin shrunk somewhere behind Matt’s shoulder.  
Riko was completely in black as always and this time his shadow was at his side. They could be a comedy duo with their height difference, Neil thought. Jean Moreau had a good foot on Riko, but somehow managed to wither in the other’s presence, not unlike Kevin.

Riko smiled his snake smile and his eyes found Neil, cold and murderous just like during Neil’s interview. “I’m here to congratulate the star of this year’s Games. We really managed to make quite the show out there, don’t you think?” He was looking at Neil’s burned skin when he said that. Eyes almost hungry and Neil recoiled in disgust. “I really liked the muttations,” he said flatly. “Your idea?”  
Riko’s smile grew wider. “My uncle’s. Sadly it was also his idea to let you both win.” The playful mood from before was completely gone now. Kevin tried his best to get by unnoticed and Matt, Dan and Renee wore each carefully blank expressions. That was, until Renee suddenly offered her hand to Jean, and smiled at him kindly. “Jean Moreau, right? I’m Renee Walker. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet, last year was pretty hectic and the victor’s always busy, right?” The bewilderment was written all over his face, as he tentatively took her hand. Riko’s displeasure at the interruption showed in the crinkle between his eyebrows.

“Let’s talk somewhere private, Neil,” he said without looking away from Renee who ignored him to chatter mindlessly with Jean.  
Neil crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” and after a second of consideration he added, “thank you.”  
Riko sighed at that, as if Neil were a stubborn pet he was slowly losing patience with. “I thought you might want to talk about Stefan. And Alex. And Chris.”

For a moment Neil thought he’d fallen over. He felt the world lurch out from under him and take his stomach with it. A second or minute or eternity later he realized he hadn’t moved at all. He wasn’t even breathing.  
In eight years on the run Neil had been through exactly twenty-two names. Hearing one name from Riko wouldn’t mean anything. Hearing three wasn’t a coincidence. It was a threat.

Riko knew he had Neil as he gestured with his arm to a door not far away.  
“Neil,” Matt started when Neil actually followed Riko towards it. “It’s fine,” he said to the group and also to himself.

They stepped out into a dark hallway that seemed to continue endlessly and several other doors led to probably more hallways and rooms.  
When the door closed behind Neil, Riko turned on his heel to face him, and they eyed each other appraisingly. Finally Riko smiled.

“Nathaniel, it has been so long.”

Neil’s fear was hot and thick in his chest. He could barely breathe around it. He hoped his expression didn’t give him away even as he knew it was too late. “My name is Neil.”  
“You’re such a convincing little liar. Does your precious guard dog know about it? Who your father is?” Neil licked his lip and said nothing. “It’s funny, really. I don’t think Kevin knows about it or else he wouldn’t cling so much to you. He really has taken it badly after you left, you know. And after the thing with Jeremy… He’s such a mess.”

Neil didn’t know what Riko was talking about. All he knew was that Riko knew. His eyes darted to the window on his left, and Riko noticed it. “Do you want to run? Leave everyone behind? Before the big bad wolf gets to you?” He laughed. “Don’t worry, your father is not even in the Capitol right now. He’s somewhere else needed.”  
“What do you want?” Neil asked, squeezing his arms so tight across his chest he thought he’d crush his own lungs. “I’m not here to cause you any trouble.”  
Riko stepped so close to him they were touching, and it took all Neil had in him to not lean away. He hadn’t realized before that they were almost the same height. But right now, Riko radiated power and lethal malevolence, and the two inches between them felt like twenty. Suddenly he could understand Jean and Kevin shrinking to half of their sizes.

“You don’t want to cause any trouble,” Riko echoed. “That’s a little late, don’t you think? Apart from your little display in the arena, you cost my family a sizable fortune and eight years of trouble.”  
“How do you know? My father never told your family your money was gone.” Neil asked confused. His mother had stolen not a small amount of money from his father and therefore directly from the Capitol. His father had covered that up with his own money or else he would have lost his status as Kengo Moriyama’s right hand man.

“Don’t act stupid with me now,” Riko said. “You know how much you cost the Capitol.”  
“I’m not acting,” Neil said and finally took a step back. For a moment they both stared blankly at the other, obviously talking past each other.  
Suddenly Riko grabbed Neil by his shoulders and slammed him into the wall. Neil’s head hit hard enough to rattle his teeth.  
“I refuse to believe she never told you. All the time running and you never asked why?”  
Neil gave Riko an incredulous look. “Have you met my father? I didn’t have to ask.”

The smile on Riko’s face just now was cruel enjoyment about something Neil couldn’t possibly understand. He leaned closer to Neil’s face and said, “Oh, Nathaniel. Did no one tell you? Your father would have either sold you to my uncle and me, or were to execute you. My father is very picky in regards to his inner circle.”

For a moment, Neil thought he was dreaming. Like he would wake up any second to his mother next to him and they would soon running again. He thought about the training in District 1 with Kevin and Riko. The wooden sword in his hand, the watchful eye of Tetsuji Moriyama. And he thought of Jean Moreau who had grown up in District 4 until Riko had taken him in to become a Career Tribute for District 1 and bring a fortune to the Moriyama family. Sold.  
The same future that would have awaited Neil if not his mother had intervened. Career Tribute in the arena, or death through his father’s hand.

“You belong to me, Nathaniel,” Riko whispered. Then the door behind them banged open, leaving a dent in the wall.  
“Here you are, Neil. Making friends without me, I’m hurt.” Andrew stood in the doorframe, two ice cream cones in each hand. He regarded them both boredly, “Anything interesting?”

The sight of Andrew, unbothered as ever, somehow dropped Neil’s steadily rising anxiety. His eye’s didn’t leave Riko’s face as he said, “We were just talking how his father is really picky in who he lets close to him. And how Riko is obviously not one of them.”  
He neatly stepped away from Riko and joined Andrew at the door. Riko was furious. “You will regret this,” he pressed out between clenched teeth. He didn’t attack, though. Probably because Andrew was there, and hitting someone who would hit back wasn’t his strength.

“This conversation is already boring, let’s go,” Andrew said and they left Riko behind. As they walked, Andrew licked on his ice cream and said casually, “I take it that he found out.” Neil didn’t answer, it wasn’t a question and he didn’t trust his voice just now. “Don’t look like that, fox boy. Riko can’t do shit. He’s not allowed to talk to his father or brother and if your father is as important as you ought him to be, then he will not associate with the lesser branch of the family.”

That made Neil actually pause. He wasn’t so sure about this, and he had to think what to do from now on. But as long as he was still in the public eye he was relatively safe. From his father, from Riko. Not so much from Kengo and Ichirou. If they decided he and Andrew were too big of a threat, they could easily eliminate them. Tomorrow during the interview he had to convince everyone.

“Is that other ice cream for me?” Neil asked then. Trying to distract himself from the new revelations. He found himself wanting to tell Andrew about it. But not with eyes and ears everywhere. Maybe once they were back in District 12.  
“Fuck, no. Get your own.”

 

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when they all straggled back to the twelfth floor of the Training Center. Kevin and Aaron were too drunk to even find the way out of the elevator, so Renee and Wymack had to help them. Nicky and Allison supported each other and stumbled into the sitting room, collapsing on the couches until Renee and Wymack would return to tuck them in.  
Even though Andrew had been drinking as well, he was much better off. Together they walked down the hall to their rooms. They didn’t talk, but Andrew held a cigarette out and Neil took it.

 

When he woke sometime around noon, Neil had about five minutes to eat a bowl of hot grain and stew before Roland appeared.  
He kept the look from the night before, all natural and boyish charm as he called it, and gave Neil a black and yellow suit to wear. They made idle chit-chat but they both stayed clear of anything too important. Neil was suddenly very much aware of all the cameras that could be around him. From now on, they wouldn’t leave Andrew and Neil out of their eyes.

The interview took place in the sitting room. A space had been cleared and the love seat had been moved in and surrounded by vases of blue and yellow roses. There were only a handful of cameras to record the event. No live audience at least.

He shook hands with Kathy Ferdinand when he came in. “Congratulations, Neil. How are you faring?”  
“I’m fine,” he said.  
She smiled her freakish smile, probably trying to sound sympathetic, but only sounded condescending as she said, “Nervous about the interview I bet?”  
“I’m not good at talking about myself,” he told her with a shrug. He really should try to be friendlier, she could help them after all. With a pat to his cheek, she said, “Nothing you say will be wrong.”  
And his resolve to humor her more was gone the second her hand touched his face. Instead he entertained the thought of just telling her, “Oh Kathy, if only that were true! But actually, President Moriyama is arranging some sort of accident for me as we speak. Also my father wanted to sell me to a sadistic psycho who thinks he owns me now. Let’s talk about this.”  
He bit his lip before laughing out loud in his hysteria.

Then Andrew appeared, in blue and black. So they wore the same color scheme as yesterday.  
They sat somewhat formally on the love seat, but Kathy said, “Oh, please it’s just us. Hold as much onto Andrew as you want, Neil.” For a moment Neil though he would get up and punch the false teeth out of her grinning mouth, but Andrew pinched him in his side. They resumed to sit side by side, but Neil grabbed for Andrew’s suit jacket on a whim.

Someone counted backwards and just like that, they were being broadcasted live to the entire country.  
Kathy was as annoying as ever, asking them stupid questions Andrew wouldn’t answer to and Neil had to hold back to not lose his temper again. But somehow she loved the curt but actually truthful answers Neil had to offer. For instance when she asked him about the feast and risking his life for Andrew he only said what he had already said back then, that he didn’t want to lose Andrew. And that Andrew would have done the same thing.

Behind a cameraman, he could see the others and Renee flashing him her thumbs up. Apparently he had said the right thing.  
The interview continued about their injuries and general journey through the arena and what it had been like. Neil answered for both of them as Andrew’s only answers consisted of single words, such as “annoying”, “yes”, “no” and “cold”.  
Eventually Kathy addressed the berries, though. And that was something Neil couldn’t answer for Andrew. Well, he could but then they’d be executed before he could even close his mouth again.

“Andrew, I really need to ask now,” Kathy said, “the moment when you pulled out those berries. What was going on in your mind… hm?”  
Neil could see Wymack closing his eyes for a second, and Kevin’s tight-lipped frown. They were probably thinking about starting fire to avoid the question completely.  
And apparently Andrew didn’t plan on saying anything. They sat in silence for several seconds and Neil already saw the train crashing on their way back in some sort of tragic accident. If they were as good as dead, maybe he could give them all a piece of his mind then? He could look straight into the camera and say, “My father is the Butcher and right-hand man of President Moriyama and he wanted to sell me. Fuck you, dad. And also fuck you, too, Riko.”

But before he could do anything radical, Andrew turned to look at Neil and Neil mirrored him. They were facing each other so close, their noses were almost touching. He stared Neil right into the eyes as he said, “If they didn’t wanted us both, they’d get none. It was easy like that.” He had said the exact same words in the arena.  
“Neil? Anything to add?” asked Kathy.  
Neil didn’t turn to look at her. “No.”  
Kathy signed off and it was over. Everyone was laughing and crying (Nicky) and hugging, but Neil was still not sure until he reached Renee. “How was it?” he whispered.  
“Perfect,” she answered.

Everyone went back to their rooms to collect a few things. As Neil had nothing he stayed with Roland.  
They drove through the streets in a car with blackened windows and the train was waiting for them. Roland squeezed Neil’s should, then bent forward and whispered in Neil’s ear, “I really can’t tell if you are just acting or not. Give me a hint?”  
Neil frowned at him, “What?” And Roland only laughed.  
They would see him in a few moths again, when they toured the districts for a round of victory ceremonies. It was the Capitol’s way of reminding people that the Hunger Games never really went away. They would be given a lot of useless plaques, and everyone would have to pretend they loved them.

The train began moving and they were plunged into night until they cleared the tunnel and Neil took his first free breath since the Reaping. Allison accompanied them back, and they all ate an enormous dinner.  
During the replay of the interview, Aaron left without another word and Neil would gladly follow him if he weren’t sandwiched between Nicky and Andrew on the couch.

“How long will our bet go on?” Nicky asked after a while. Allison with her feet on Renee’s lap flicked her fingers at him. “Until we get a clear answer.” Neil wondered why they did not just ask them, but then again, he didn’t really care.

When the train made a brief stop for fuel, they were allowed to go outside for some fresh air. There was no longer any need to guard them.  
Andrew and Neil walked down along the track, each holding a cigarette. After a few meters, Neil said, “Riko told me something.” Andrew inclined his head slightly to show he was listening. Swallowing hard, Neil wondered why he was even telling Andrew this, but the words forced themselves out of his mouth. “He said my father wanted to sell me. To Tetsuji. And Riko. To make me a District 1 Career Tribute.” After a second he added, “Well, it was either that or killing me.”  
Andrew said nothing and they walked further, far past the end of the train.

Andrew finished his cigarette in silence and took Neil’s out of his hand to finish it as well. When they returned to train and Neil had just climbed aboard, Andrew said, “Drake was almost my adoptive brother.” And with that, he disappeared in his room for the night.

Neil thought about this for a while as he was lying awake in bed. At one point someone had almost adopted Andrew. Most likely from the Capitol, because as far as Neil had understood Andrew had lived most of his life there. What had gone wrong?  
He couldn’t help the bitter feeling in his chest. If someone would have just adopted Andrew, then he would have never been brought in for the Games.

 

The next morning, after a lavish breakfast they prepared for their arrival in District 12. Nicky’s bags were filled with presents for practically everyone, he knew a lot of people. He chattered excitedly with Renee as they compared their presents for Bee and Abby.

Neil stood silently with Andrew, watching the grimy little station rise up around them. Through the window, Neil could see the platform was thick with cameras. Everyone would be eagerly watching their homecoming. It was the second time Neil thought about 12 as something akin to a home. He didn’t know how he felt about that.  
“They won’t get you here, fox boy,” Andrew said and pressed his index and middle finger against Neil’s carotid. His heart was beating steadily.

“Don’t forget, you’re a hunter now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next chapter will be the beginning of part 2. I may take a little break here to sort through Catching Fire and decide how to place new and old characters.  
> Also finally Jean. I can't wait to write his story oh man. (and.... what was that..... A Jeremy..... what happened....)  
> And last but not least: THANK YOU for reading! Can't wait to see you guys for the next chapter where we'll find out how Neil and Andrew fare as victors and what that means for their relationship!)


	11. Victors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to part 2! And this time I have a beautiful [beta](http://marbledmaven.tumblr.com/) (thank you so so much!) which means updates may come a little slower but with 200% more quality!   
> Also imagine me cringing when I realized the Quarter Quell in Catching Fire is every 25 years which does not work here hahah so I invented my own anniversary celebration.

Neil’s muscles were clenched tight against the freezing cold air. If a pack of wild dogs were to appear at this moment, the odds of scaling a tree before they attacked were not in his favor.   
He should get up, move around, and work the stiffness from his limbs. But instead he sat, as motionless as the rock beneath him, while the dawn began to lighten the woods.  
He couldn’t fight the sun. He could only watch as it dragged him into a day that he had been dreading for months.

By noon they would all be at his new house in the Victor’s Village. The reporters, the camera crews, even Allison will have made her way to District 12 from the Capitol. Others of course, too, such as a staff to cater to his every need on the long train trip of the Victory Tour. And Roland, his and Andrew’s stylist, who will make them look presentable for the people of Panem.

Neil thought they all couldn’t care less what color his shoes were, but everyone had forbidden him to have any opinion on fashion ever again. Nicky and Andrew had filled his wardrobe with several outfits after throwing everything else away. A wardrobe! Suddenly he had enough clothes to fill a whole wardrobe. It was quite the change from the beat-up backpack with four shirts and two trousers he had arrived with in District 12, one-and-a-half years ago.

If it were up to Neil, he would try to forget the Hunger Games entirely. Never speak of them. Pretend they were nothing but a bad dream. But the Victory Tour made that impossible. Strategically placed almost midway between the annual Games, it was the Capitol’s way of keeping the horror fresh and immediate.   
Not only were the districts forced to remember the iron grip of the Capitol’s power each year, they were also forced to celebrate it.

And this year, Neil was one of the stars of the show. He would have to travel from district to district, to stand before cheering crowds and families whose children he had killed.

The sun persisted in rising, so Neil made himself stand. All his joints complained and his left leg had been asleep for so long that it took him several minutes of pacing to bring the feeling back into it.   
He had been in the woods for three hours now, but as he had made no real attempt at hunting, he had nothing to show for.   
It didn’t really matter for him anymore. He could afford to buy meat in town. But he still liked to bring Coach Hernandez and his wife Rena some fresh meat from time to time. And it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

Neil stayed for another hour and shot two squirrels and a rabbit while violently suppressing the memories of another time, where he had hunted to feed Robin and Andrew. It was easier now to evade the parallels of the woods and the arena. The arena had been lush with pine trees and other greens, while winter had turned everything into gray here.

By the time Neil made it back to the fence that surrounded District 12, the sun was well up. As always, he listened a moment, but there was no telltale hum of electrical current running through the chain link. There hardly ever was, even though it was supposed to be charged full time.

He wriggled through the opening at the bottom of the fence and came up in a meadow, not far from his old shack, where he had lived before the Games.   
It was still his, officially, but of course he had to live in the house in the Victor’s Village now. Across from Andrew’s and next to Renee’s.   
He still used the squat little place, though. Had his beat-up backpack stored away under the bed, with his mother’s contact list, a phone number he would never call, a few clothes, and half of the money his mother had stolen from his father – and therefore from the Capitol.

Neil checked everything, then sat down at his old kitchen table and tried to stall for some more time. He hadn’t told anyone about the backpack, of course not. Not even Andrew who knew Neil’s story almost completely, except for who his father actually was and Neil’s real name.   
Their truth game which they had started during their preparations for the Games, had come to a halt a few months ago anyway.

The last truth Andrew had shared with Neil had been about Drake. After that, the weeks after their return had been hectic and filled with cameras following their every step. And somehow neither of them had picked it up again, even though they often met for a nightly cigarette in silence.   
Neil’s need to share his secrets with Andrew had been born from the belief one of them wouldn’t make it out alive from the arena. And now, that they were both still alive and neither his father nor Kengo Moriyama had tried to kill him yet, he was unsure how to proceed.  
He only knew survival, how to run and how to hide, but not how to… live. With a home. With people who knew him. With someone who _actually_ knew him.

A few weeks ago, on the twins’ birthday, Nicky had told Neil a little more about Andrew’s and Aaron’s story. It had been a weird conversation, and Nicky’s reaction when Neil had told him he already knew a few things had been more than surprised.  
“Andrew told you? How? He doesn’t even speak to me most of the time!” he had asked. Neil had decided to stick with the simplest truth. “I asked him.”  
Afterwards Nicky had been somehow convinced it was fine to tell Neil more. It was mostly what Aaron had told him, so Andrew’s point of view was missing completely.

“Aunt Tilda tried as hard as she could not to deal with Aaron at all, at least until Andrew came back into the picture. That’s when Aaron says she started getting angry instead of just neglectful. I still don’t know why Andrew refused to meet Aaron, but around that time their mother became heavy-handed with Aaron. He really tried to get into contact with Andrew several times, but before anything could actually happen, Andrew managed to be deported to District 12. I still don’t know what he did.” He had paused there for a second as if to figure it out, but had resumed to the story quickly. “Well, Tilda was already a junkie back then, but she got Aaron hooked as well. After the rehab didn’t work for both of them, they were thrown out of 4. That’s how they met.”

Neil had then tried a shot in the dark by asking, “Do you know a Drake? Was he one of Andrew’s foster brothers?” Nicky had tilted his head contemplatively. “I don’t know about a Drake. His last foster mom was someone named… Spear I think.”  
Their conversation had been interrupted then, and Neil was ever since wondering why Andrew had been so hell-bent on not meeting Aaron.

He wondered about a lot of things, but it seemed not right to only get bits and pieces from Nicky whose knowledge was obviously biased as his only source of information was Aaron. And Neil would prefer to hear it from Andrew. But as it was, their truth game was over and it would have been Andrew’s turn anyway.

A wailing at the window demanded Neil’s attention. He opened it to find the two stray cats that were determined to make the shack their new home. Neil didn’t mind, he had his house and the winter was freezing cold in District 12. He let them both in and fed them with some leftovers he always brought along for them. They nudged his hand, and Neil rubbed them between the ears for a bit. He left the window slightly ajar so they could come and go as they liked, then he left the shack.

It was too slippery to go running, so Neil crunched along the cinder street, cut down alleys and walked through backyards until he made it to the Hernandez’s house.  
Coach Hernandez was still at school, but Rena saw him through the window, where she was bent over the kitchen sink. She dried her hands on her apron and disappeared to meet him at the door.

She smiled when she saw the game. She took the rabbit by the ears, feeling its weight. “He’s going to make a nice stew.”  
“Good pelt, too,” Neil answered. She waved him inside with a grin and poured him a mug of herb tea, which he wrapped his chilled fingers around.   
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a train?” she asked.  
“They’re collecting me at noon,” he answered. Rena reached over the table to tap lightly between his eyebrows. “Don’t look so gloomy. You’ll be back in no time! And you’re in good company.” She meant Andrew, apparently she liked him. At least she had told Neil as much with a wink, while Andrew had completely ignored her at their first meeting. Neil had only shrugged at that, if she said so.

“I think he’s looking forward to it as much as I am,” he said with a sigh and gulped the still hot tea down. “I better get going. Make myself presentable for the cameras.”  
Rena ruffled his hair, “Enjoy the food.”  
That he could at least do.

His next stop was the Hob, the black market of District 12. Before the Games he had traded his quarry there occasionally. Now that he wasn’t required to trade anymore, he bought hand-rolled cigarettes, because Wymack and Andrew liked their taste better than the imported goods from other districts. Then he got some alcohol, also for Andrew and his family, and some herbs for Abby that couldn’t be bought anywhere else.   
Most evenings, Abby forced Neil to eat with her, Wymack, Betsy, Renee, and Renee’s adoptive mother Stephanie Walker. The day Neil had found out that Betsy’s name wasn’t actually Bee had been one of the more awkward ones.

A light snow started to fall as he made his way to the Victor’s Village. It was about a kilometer-long walk from the square in the center of the town, but it seemed like another world entirely. It was a separated community built around a green, dotted with flowering bushes. Sometimes he would sit on the stairs to his house and watch Renee planting flowers in the surrounding flower beds.

There were twelve houses, each large enough to house two big families. Eight stood empty, as they always had. The four in use belonged to Wymack, Renee, Andrew and him.   
The houses inhabited by Wymack, Renee and Andrew gave off a warm glow of life under the overcast sky and steadily growing snowfall. Lit windows, smoke from the chimneys, bunches of brightly colored corn affixed to the front doors as decoration for the upcoming Harvest Festival.

However, Neil’s house was usually dark, cold and looked somewhat abandoned. Abby, as well as Renee, had already told him he could stay with them if he didn’t want to be alone in the big house. But Neil had declined every time. It was better that way. He didn’t sleep much, the nightmares kept him awake every night, and he didn’t want to disturb anyone by leaving the house in the middle of the night for a run.   
Nightmares were nothing new to him, but after the Games they wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t just about his father anymore, but also about Robin, about Andrew. About Gorilla being eaten alive, just a few meters beneath him. There were many of them, and he barely slept more than three or four hours a night.

The snow began to stick and he left a trail of footprints behind him. When he reached the gate to the village, he paused. As expected, soft light fell from the windows of Wymack’s, Andrew’s and Renee’s houses. But he could see from here that someone was in his house. Smoke rose from the chimney and every light on the ground floor had been turned on.  
Maybe it was Andrew. They had exchanged keys for their houses and sometimes, when Neil returned from a hunting trip, someone had left a loaf of bread on his kitchen table or Andrew waited for him and they would eat together because Nicky and Aaron were too loud.

So he didn’t think too much about it as he opened the front door and shrugged off his fine wool coat and placed the wet shoes on a mat next to the door. “Andrew?” he called inside the silent house.

It wasn’t Andrew who appeared in the hallway just then. “This way, please, Mister Josten,” said the man. He was clad in a black suit, obviously from the Capitol. And for a second Neil thought he was here because of his father. But he was way too polite to be one of the Butcher’s minions, and he hadn’t immediately attacked him. He gestured down the corridor, and Neil followed him cautiously. They wouldn’t kill him right here and now, would they?

“Go right in,” the Capitol man said and pointed to the door of the study, a door Neil had never seen closed until this moment. His heart started to pound as he twisted the polished brass knob and stepped inside.  
A man stood at the window with his back to Neil. When he turned around, Neil’s heart skipped a beat. He was staring into the calm eyes of Ichirou Moriyama.

 

In Neil’s mind, Ichirou Moriyama should be viewed in front of marble pillars hung with oversized flags. It was jarring to see him surrounded by the ordinary objects in the room. Like taking the lid off a pot and finding a fanged viper instead of stew.

Neil’s mind rushed immediately to the Victory Banquet and Riko’s threats. The past six months nothing had come from it, so Neil had gradually relaxed and even started to believe Andrew’s words from back then. Riko wasn’t allowed to talk to his father or brother. And Neil’s own father wouldn’t associate with the lesser Moriyama branch, consisting of the second born sons, Tetsuji and Riko. Riko hadn’t told anyone about Neil’s real identity.   
Or at least Neil had thought so. Ichirou’s presence here meant not only had Neil provoked the Capitol, he had also stolen from them. Well, technically his mother had, but he was the only one available for punishment. Would he finally die now?

Neil blinked. What would that mean for Andrew and the others? Would they be punished as well? Would they be questioned whether they knew about Neil’s real name? If so, they would punish Andrew for sure. Turn him into an Avox, maybe let Neil’s father rip his tongue out. That was what he was there for, after all.

“I think we’ll make this whole situation a lot simpler by agreeing not to lie to each other,” Ichirou said. “Don’t you think so?”  
Neil thought his tongue had frozen and speech would be impossible, so he surprised himself by answering back in a steady voice, “Yes, I think that would save time.” A test? To see if Neil would confess?  
Ichirou nodded and Neil noticed how he didn’t seem to fit into the Capitol’s general craziness regarding surgical alteration and freakish fashion choices. But neither did his father nor his brother.

“My advisors were concerned you would be difficult, but you’re not planning on being difficult, are you?” he asked.  
“No,” Neil answered. He had still no idea what Ichirou wanted from him.  
“That’s what I told them. I said anyone who goes to such lengths to preserve their life isn’t going to be interested in throwing it away with both hands. And then there is his… partner to think of.” He paused and looked Neil in the eyes. He was the complete opposite of Riko, there was no telling what he was thinking or planning. He could draw a knife on Neil any second and it wouldn’t show on his face. “Andrew Minyard. He has family, right?”   
It was no question that required an answer. Ichirou was well aware of Andrew’s circumstances.

He hadn’t mentioned Neil’s father yet. And somehow Neil had a feeling he wouldn’t. This wasn’t about Neil’s family. Ichirou had no idea who was standing in front of him. Unfortunately, that didn’t calm Neil down in the slightest. Instead he felt even more nauseous, because he was currently making somewhat of a fool out of Ichirou Moriyama.

“Let’s sit.” Ichirou took a seat at the large desk of polished wood. Neil sat in front of the desk on one of the carved, straight-backed chairs. It was made for someone taller than he was, so only his toes rested on the ground.

“I have a problem,” said Ichirou. “A problem that began the moment you had such interesting things to say during your interview, and ultimately lead to your friend pulling out those poisonous berries in the arena.”

Neil’s heart sank. It might not be about his father or Riko, but the other thing Renee had warned him about. He had actually completely forgotten about it, the last months had passed without a word from the Capitol, so he had assumed they had been satisfied with his performance. No one wanted to provoke a rebellion. In fact, Neil wanted to be left alone.

“If the Head Gamemaker, my uncle, had had any brains, he’d have blown you to dust right then. But he had an unfortunate sentimental streak, must be a victor’s thing. Anyway, here you are. Can you guess where he is?” Ichirou asked.

Neil nodded because, by the way he said it, it was clear that Tetsuji Moriyama had been executed. They had killed their own blood. Neil and Andrew would be nothing to them.

“After that, there was nothing to do but let you play out your little scenario. And you were pretty good, too, with the protective affection for your partner. The people in the Capitol were quite convinced. Unfortunately, not everyone in the districts fell for your act,” he said.

Neil’s face must register at least a flicker of bewilderment, because he addressed it.   
“That, of course, you don’t know. You have no access to information about the mood in other districts. In several of them, however, people viewed your little trick with the berries in context with what you had to say during the interview as an act of defiance, not an act of… love. And if a boy from District 12 of all places can defy the Capitol and walk away unharmed, what is to stop them from doing the same?” he said. “What is to prevent, say, an uprising?”

Neil didn’t dare to look Ichirou in the eyes, so he stared blankly at his shoulder instead. He didn’t quite understand. “There have been uprisings?” he asked. That was impossible. Not over something he had said in a fit of petty anger, or a few simple berries. Neil was more concerned about the idea people thought _love_ had been somehow involved. He only knew one kind of love, and that was his mother’s heavy fists that had kept him alive.

“Not yet. But they’ll follow if the course of things doesn’t change. And uprisings have been known to lead to revolution.” Ichirou rubbed a spot over his left eyebrow, the very spot where Neil himself got headaches. “Do you have any idea what that would mean? How many people would die? What conditions those left would have to face? Whatever problems anyone may have with the Capitol, believe me when I say that if it released its grip on the districts for even a short time, the entire system would collapse.”

Neil tried to keep any emotions from his face, but he hardly believed that the Moriyama’s primary concern was the welfare of the citizens of Panem.  
He didn’t know why he said the next words, his brain to mouth filter was apparently non-existent. “It must be a very fragile system, if a few words and a handful of berries can bring it down.”

There was a long pause while Ichirou examined him. Then he simply said, “It is fragile, but not in the way that you suppose.”  
Neil swallowed. “I—we didn’t mean to start any uprisings,” Neil told him. He wondered if Ichirou would pay Andrew a visit as well. He hoped not, Andrew wasn’t someone who could be intimidated.

“I believe you. It doesn’t matter. Your stylist turned out to be prophetic in his wardrobe choice. Neil Josten, the boy who was on fire, you have provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem,” he said and looked at the burn mark on Neil’s left cheekbone.

“Why don’t you just kill me now?” Neil couldn’t help but ask. He was blatantly threatened here, so why bother holding back?  
“Publicly?” Ichirou asked. “That would only add fuel to the flames.”  
“Arrange an accident then,” Neil said.  
“Who would buy it?” he asked. “Not you, if you were watching.”  
Neil almost lost his nerve and snapped at Ichirou, but brought his temper quickly under control again.

“Then what do you want me to do? I’ll do it,” he said.  
“If only it were that simple.” Ichirou’s eyes bored into Neil’s. “How are things with your partner? I heard you spend a lot of time together.”  
Taken aback, Neil opened his mouth in confusion. Andrew? Was he now threatening Andrew? Schooling his face into a neutral expression, Neil said, “Fine. They are fine.”

Ichirou nodded. “That’s good. Because here is the deal, Neil Josten,” he leaned forward, his hands folded like he was presenting Neil a business plan, “You have to be better than in the Capitol. If the uprisings are to be averted, show them that you only care about your partner’s well-being, and only that. No grand speeches anymore, no more defying the rules,” he said. “This tour will be your only chance to turn things around. I can’t kill you, or your partner. But the brother and cousin I can easily kill, do you understand?”

Neil did understand. Ichirou rose and he tapped on the desk with his knuckle. “Aim higher in case you fall short.”  
“What do you mean?” Neil asked. “How can I aim higher?” He didn’t even know how to aim low. He had no idea what he was supposed to do.  
Ichirou walked around the desk and stopped besides Neil. They both didn’t look at each other when he said, “Convince _me_.”

Neil didn’t watch him go, he only knew he was alone again when the door clicked shut behind him. Outside the window, a car came to life, soft and quiet like the purr of a cat, then faded away into the distance. It slipped off as it had arrived, unnoticed.

The room seemed to be spinning in slow, lopsided circles, and Neil wondered if he might black out. He leaned forward and clutched the desk with both hands. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. He knew he had to, in less than an hour Roland and Allison and a bunch of strangers would invade the house. Drag him out in public so Panem could once again invade his personal life.

A visit from Ichirou Moriyama. Districts on the verge of uprisings. A direct death threat to Aaron and Nicky, with others to follow. Riko who knew about his father, and of course his father. No wonder had he not been in the Capitol after the Games. If somewhere in Panem people caused trouble, it was upon the Butcher to stem the problem. Usually as bloody as possible.

How should he do this? Quiet the discontent and put the Moriyama’s mind at rest? The thing was, Neil did not really care what the other districts were doing. If they started an uprising or burned the whole Capitol down, it wasn’t Neil’s business. He cared about Andrew, and how Ichirou had said it, about nothing else but his well-being. He didn’t have to _act_ that part, he owed Andrew his life. He had saved him countless times, and Neil still struggled to pay him back for it even once.   
But how should he convince people to believe that? If they wanted to see a rebellion, they would see it. Neil had no other choice, though. Nicky and Aaron’s lives were at stake, and Abby’s and Betsy’s. Maybe even Wymack and Renee.

“You should keep your mental breakdowns for the night, Reynolds is on her way already.” Andrew dumped a piece of chocolate cake in front of Neil and sat down where only a few minutes ago Ichirou had been sitting. Slowly releasing the desk, Neil noticed how stiff his fingers were. How much time had passed? He looked over the desk to Andrew and found himself opening his mouth to tell him everything. Then he remembered how they were probably being watched right now, and closed it again.

Andrew, of course, noticed. He said nothing, though. He probably knew something was bothering Neil, but he was well aware of their constant surveillance.

“Don’t look at me like that, fox boy.” Neil blinked, not knowing how he looked right now. Andrew flicked a finger at him, “And go wash yourself, you smell like rabbit.”  
Automatically, Neil stood up to do so, then his eyes fell on the cake. “The cake—”  
“Will be eaten. By me. Hush now, go or Roland will scold you.”

Andrew had probably brought the cake along for himself, anyway. He knew Neil would only eat one or two bites before leaving it for Andrew to finish. A smile tugged at Neil’s lips and for a second he forgot about Ichirou Moriyama’s visit. “You should get ready, too, then,” Neil said. “I’ll see you later.”  
“The house’s big enough for both of us.”  
Shrugging, Neil accepted that and went upstairs.

He let steaming hot water in the bathtub and added with a sigh a small bag of dried flowers that polluted the air. Last night, Allison had called him from the train and had ordered him to use those for today. “It’s my job to keep up your pretty boy image,” she had said, while technically it was Roland’s job to do so. When Neil had told her, that no one would smell him over the television, he had heard the scorn in her voice. “If someone says that _my_ victor smells like wet fur I will not only kill them, but you as well.”

Neil undressed and lowered himself into the silky water – and tried to get a grip on things.  
He had to tell Andrew, that much was clear. But should he tell the others? They were all somehow involved, especially Nicky and Aaron. He would ask Andrew about them later. That left Wymack and Renee. They most likely knew already in what kind of trouble Andrew and Neil were, and Renee had warned him before the ceremony. He should probably tell them, too.

Neil slid down into the water, letting it block out the sounds around him. When he had been younger, his mother had often bathed him in the big tub in his father’s house. She would lock the door, so no one could disturb them, and then she would just sit next to him and watch him play. It felt weird to remember his mother in such a context, gentle and calm. The last years he had spent with her had consisted of impatient words and rough hands.

Even underwater Neil could hear the sounds of commotion. Honking car horns, shouts of greeting, doors banging shut. It could only mean Allison and Roland had arrived.  
He just had time to towel off and slip into a robe before someone knocked soundly at the door. “Come on out here, Neil! We have work to do!” Allison, who was responsible for the time table, did not even wait for his answer before she was walking away again.

When he opened the door, he saw her down the hall with Andrew. “What the fuck are you doing here, Minyard? You’re supposed to be cleaning yourself. No one can work with _that_.” She motioned at him, but Neil thought he looked as always.   
Andrew didn’t look at her, when he answered, “I’ll save Roland the trouble and stay here.” He walked past Neil and inside the bathroom. Without another word he shut the door and turned the key in the lock.

“Why doesn’t he just move in?” Allison asked Neil.   
“Why should he?” Neil asked back, puzzled.  
“I really can’t tell if you’re fucking with me, or if you’re actually serious. Come on, Roland is waiting.” She led him into a room, one of the many bedrooms in the house, where Roland was waiting for him.

He greeted Neil with a wave of his hand and then guided him to a chair. “Still not convinced to let me get you your natural hair back?” he asked after combing through Neil’s unruly curls with his hands. Neil had done nothing to maintain his appearance in the last few months, except for dyeing his hair black.  
He shook his head, “No.” That last bit of independence he wanted to keep. Besides, with his hair in its natural color he was practically his father’s spitting image.

With a sigh, Roland started to work on him then. Nails, eyebrows, dyeing, and something that would prevent his facial hair growing. When he worked some sort of goo through Neil’s hair he started to talk. “Have you heard yet? Kevin will be a Gamemaker for the next Games.” Neil hadn’t heard, but after what Ichirou had told him, they had to replace Tetsuji with someone.   
“Is Riko now Head Gamemaker?” he asked. Roland nodded. “Quite the promotion,” he said vaguely. Neil only hummed. Well, that was great for Kevin. Now he could kill children in the arena after he had annoyed Neil this whole time about staying alive.

“It’s going to be your first year as a mentor and his first year as a Gamemaker. And that for an Anniversary Year, as well.”  
Neil sighed. He had completely forgotten about his upcoming mentoring obligation. And it would be even more troublesome during an Anniversary Year. In a normal year, being a mentor to the tributes was already bad enough. But to make things worse, this was the year of the Thirty-fifth Hunger Games, and that meant an Anniversary Year. They occurred every five years, marking the anniversary of the districts’ defeat with over-the top celebrations, and, for extra fun, some miserable twist for the tributes.

For instance, for the last Anniversary Year, the Capitol had demanded that twice the number of tributes were provided for the arena. Later, Neil had learned from Wymack that Matt Boyd had won that year.   
“Riko will love this,” he muttered.

Soon, Neil’s eyebrows were stinging where Roland had plucked them, his hair was smooth and a little shorter than before, and his skin didn’t look like it would break any second from the cold.   
“Now get dressed, I’m going to look after Andrew,” he said and tossed a bundle of clothes at Neil. He left, and Neil dressed in the black pants, made of a thick, warm material, and a comfortable white shirt. Over the shirt he pulled a sweater woven from blue and gray strands of kitten-soft wool. Over the warm socks he put on a pair of laced, brown leather boots. All in all, Neil felt very warm and soft.

He met the others downstairs in the living room. It was the first time so many people at once were in Neil’s house and he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with it.

“There you are, Neil! We’re on a schedule here! Where’s the monster?” Allison asked. Neil only shrugged and sat down on the couch, watching the camera crews outside. He spotted Aaron on the threshold of the front door to his own house. He held Katelyn in a bone-crushing hug, and for a second Neil allowed himself to watch them.

Nicky had told Neil that Katelyn was Aaron’s girlfriend. She was an apprentice in Abby’s and Betsy’s apothecary, where also Aaron worked. He denied his relationship to her vehemently, though, and again, Nicky had told Neil it was because of Andrew. Apparently he didn’t like her very much. Or more like, he actually hated her.   
A stupid reason, as Neil thought. Andrew already knew about them, one had to be dead to not see that there was something going on. And furthermore, what did Aaron care what Andrew thought? The relationship between the twins was so messy, Neil had decided he didn’t wanted to be involved.

Finally, Roland appeared from upstairs and told an impatient Allison that Andrew was almost done. He went over to Neil and handed him his coat, a blue scarf and brown leather gloves.

When Andrew joined them, Allison clapped her hands. “Attention, everyone! We’re about to do the first outdoor shot, where the victors greet each other at the beginning of their trip. All right, someone bring Minyard over to his house. You stay right here, Neil.”

After Andrew had left, Allison pinched his cheek. “I know you’re not big on smiling, but could you at least look a little less gloomy? Give us that cake smile!”  
“The what?” he asked. She rolled her eyes. “Neil Josten. You’re making this really hard for me. The cake smile! The smile you gave Andrew in the arena when you asked him about his favorite cake. You should have seen the people’s reaction to it. You broke a few hearts there, darling.”

He remembered that moment, how he had almost revealed their exact position because he couldn’t shut up.   
Allison noticed his lack of comprehension and visibly gave up. She simply grabbed him by his shoulders and shoved him out of the door. “Try less gloomy,” she whispered into his ear, before he stumbled out in the cold.

For a moment he couldn’t quite see right, because of the snow, which was now coming down in earnest. Then he made out Andrew coming through his front door. He wore the same coat as Neil, but instead of gray it was in black, just like his gloves and scarf.  
Neil enjoyed the cold, he pretty much flourished in it, while the summer heat made him tired and irritated. Andrew however, wore several layers of clothing on most days and was still moody when he had to leave the house. He had slept over at Neil’s place several times, simply because he didn’t want to cross the short distance between their houses again.

Now they were supposed to meet up in the middle, between their houses, and greet each other. Neil wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, so he hurried down the stairs and over the freshly fallen snow to meet Andrew.   
He was about to reach him, when he slipped on an icy patch and almost fell into the snow. Andrew caught him easily, grip tight on Neil’s biceps, and steadied him.  
“How are you a hunter?” he asked Neil, voice low.   
“That was intentional,” Neil answered, and from the corner of his eye he noticed the minimal twitch of the corner of Andrew’s mouth. And Neil had to smile himself.

The rest of the day was a blur of getting to the station, bidding everyone goodbye – Neil asked Abby to check on the cats from time to time – the train pulling out, and the old team – Andrew, Wymack, Renee, Allison, Roland, Nicky, Aaron and himself – dining on a indescribably delicious meal Neil couldn’t remember.  
And then Neil was swathed in an oversized flannel shirt and comfortable pants, sitting in his compartment, waiting for the others to go to sleep. He knew Andrew would be up for hours, he entertained a similar sleeping schedule as Neil.

When the train seemed quiet, Neil opened the door and padded down to Andrew’s door. He only had to knock once, before Andrew wrenched the door open. He was also wearing his sleeping attire, and his hair was sticking up like he had already been asleep.   
He looked at Neil expectantly, but Neil couldn’t say a word. He was certain every word on the Capitol train was being recorded. “What.” Andrew said eventually. He was impatient.

The train started to brake and Neil remembered they would be stopping for fuel any second now.   
“The train’s so stuffy,” he said.  
It was a harmless phrase, but he saw Andrew’s eyes narrow in understanding. He grabbed his coat, then pushed past Neil and walked down the hall to the door. When he wrestled it open, a blast of snow hit them and belatedly Neil remembered he was barefooted. Whatever, it was too late now.

A Capitol attendant rushed to help, but Andrew waved her away. “Cigarette break,” he said and Neil followed him along the track, and beyond the end of the train so they wouldn’t be overheard. Then he turned on Neil. “Talk.”

And Neil told him about Ichirou’s visit, what was happening in the districts, and how everyone would basically die if they failed to convince the Moriyamas.  
Andrew’s face didn’t change through all of it, he wore the same apathetic expression as always.   
“Have you told anyone else about this yet?” he asked when Neil was done. Neil shook his head. “No.” Of course not.  
“Tell Coach and Renee. Don’t tell Nicky and Aaron.” So they thought the same, the less Aaron and Nicky knew, the better. And Renee and Wymack could possibly help them.

They walked back to the train in silence. Andrew gave Neil’s feet a pointed look, but said nothing. In the hallway outside Neil’s door, Andrew said: “Sweet dreams, Neil.” He knew Neil didn’t sleep much. Neil opened the door and closed it behind him without another word.

In his room, Neil removed his wet clothes. There were probably more of those soft flannel shirts in the drawers, but he just crawled between the covers in his underwear. The cold feet reminded him of the stormy night in the arena, right after the feast. Andrew had pulled off his wet socks and boots, but the cold had crept in through the layers of the sleeping bag anyway.   
He started to rub his feet against each other and when he turned around to face the wall, he expected Andrew to be there. Of course, he wasn’t.

Dawn came before sleep did, and there was Allison rapping on his door.  
Neil pulled on whatever clothes were at the top of the drawer and dragged himself down to the dining car. He wasn’t quite sure why he even bothered with getting up so early, since today was mostly a travel day.

On the other hand, he couldn’t sleep anyway. And alone, in his room, his thoughts only spiraled out of control. Ichirou’s visit and Riko breathing down his neck were only a few things on the pile of neglected problems he had collected over the past few months.   
Another one was their first stop of the Victory Tour. District 11.

He’d rather start in any other district, since this had been Robin’s home. But that was not how the Victory Tour worked.   
Usually it kicked off in 12 and then went in descending district order to 1, followed by the Capitol. The victor’s district was skipped and saved for the very last.

For breakfast, only he and Allison had showed up. “Where’s everybody else?” he asked.  
“Who knows where the monster is,” said Allison, and Neil bit back a nasty comment about the nickname she had given Andrew. “Roland was up late working on your garments for the tour. I’ve seen a few and honestly, you should be glad half of Panem is certain your taste is rude and short, because seeing you in them could even make Renee change her mind.” She laughed and Neil didn’t bother acting like he understood what she was talking about. “The others are all sleeping in,” she added eventually.

When he had finished his meal, Neil decided to wander the train aimlessly. He felt fatigue wearing him down, but he knew the second he’d close his eyes, one or more horrors would await him.  
He stopped at a window and noted surprised that the snow was gone. The trees still wore green leaves and when he opened the window, the air felt warm and balmy against his skin. How far south had they gone in a day?

After a while of mindlessly staring at the landscape flying past him, Neil tore himself away and continued his way to the last car on the train. There were chairs and sofas to sit on, but what was wonderful was that the back windows retracted into the ceiling, so he was riding outside, in the fresh air, and he could see a wide sweep of landscape. That was also were Andrew sat curled up on a couch and a book in his hand.

Their eyes met over the edge of Andrew’s book before he turned his attention back to it. Neil didn’t mind, he sat down on the other end of the same couch and let the wind ruffle his hair.

He knew what District 11 looked like, he had lived exactly seven months with his mother there. And yet it was such a change from District 12, surrounded by woods and hills. Here, he could see the huge open fields with herds of dairy cattle grazing them. But that was only the outskirts of the district, the train slowed slightly down and the fence rose up before them. Towering at least ten meters in the air and topped with wicked coils of barbed wire, it made the fence in District 12 look childish.

The base was lined with enormous metal plates that made burrowing under those impossible. No escape to hunt or any escape at all. Along with the watchtowers, placed evenly apart and manned with armed guards, his mother had instantly decided to leave this place again.

Neil noticed Andrew glancing up from time to time, but nothing kept his attention long enough to warrant a closer look of the new surroundings.  
Outside, the crops began, stretched out as far as the eye could see. Men, women and children wearing straw hats to keep off the sun straightened up, turned their way, took a moment to stretch their backs as they watched the train go by.

Somewhere in the distance the orchards could be seen, where Robin had spent so much time working. There she had learned to scale trees as fast as a squirrel, collecting the fruit from the slimmest branches at the top.   
Neil closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face. After a while he felt a prickling sensation, first he tried to shrug it off, but eventually he gave in and opened his eyes. Andrew was watching him, book resting on his folded legs.

“What are you doing?” Andrew asked, eyes minimally narrowed. Neil blinked. What _he_ was doing? What was Andrew doing?  
“Dozing, I guess,” he answered and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Why did he suddenly feel like he’d done something wrong?   
“Why here?” asked Andrew. “Go to bed.”  
“I don’t really sleep well in bed,” Neil admitted. “Why, do you want me to go?”  
Andrew stared at him, then picked his book back up and said without looking away from the page, “I hate you.”  
“Okay,” Neil said. He stretched his legs out until his toes were almost brushing against Andrew’s thigh. He acknowledged Andrew’s look at that with a cheeky smile. “You didn’t say I should leave.”

The next two hours they spent like that in companionable silence. Neil actually fell asleep a few times, and only woke up when Andrew moved besides him. Not from any nightmares or memories coming back to life. It was the first time in months he hadn’t seen anything when he closed his eyes.

It was Renee who found them like that and told them with a bright smile that it was time to dress. For a second Neil considered telling her about Ichirou, but they were still on the train and most likely watched. He had to find another opportunity to let Wymack and Renee know about the current situation. For today, Andrew and he had to manage alone.

Neil went in his compartment and let Roland do his hair and minimal make-up. Again it was more for the lightning and to hide any skin blemishes. He pulled out the weird eye pencil, though, but only did a few, light strokes with it.  
Afterwards he went to see Andrew, and Neil pulled on a soft orange shirt, patterned with autumn leaves, and a pair of dark trousers.

Nicky gushed over him which made Aaron roll his eyes. “When I see you like this, I want to cuddle you in a stormy night and eat some hot pumpkin soup!” That was a weird compliment, and Neil only frowned at Nicky for it.

Allison got Andrew and him together and went through the day’s program one last time.  
In some districts the victors rode through the city while the residents cheered. But in 11 – maybe because there was not much of a city to begin with, things being spread out, or maybe because they didn’t want to waste so many people while the harvest was on – the public appearance was confined to the square.

It took place before their Justice Building, a huge marble structure. Once, it must have been a thing of beauty, but time had taken its toll. The square itself was ringed with run-down storefronts, most of which were abandoned. Wherever the well-to-do lived in District 11, it was not there.

Their entire public performance would be staged outside on a veranda. Andrew and Neil would be introduced, the mayor of 11 would read a speech in their honor, and they were supposed to respond with a scripted thank-you provided by the Capitol.   
If a victor had any special allies among the dead tributes, it was considered good form to add a few personal comments as well.

Neil knew he should say something about Robin, and Amal, too, but he couldn’t come up with any words whenever he thought about them.  
At the end of the ceremony, they would be presented with some sort of plaque, and then they could withdraw to the Justice Building, where a special dinner would be served.

As the train was pulling into the District 11 station, Roland pulled out a golden fox paw pin and secured it to the collar of Neil’s shirt. Neil opened his mouth in surprise, but Roland silenced him with a ringed finger against his lips. “It was Nicky’s idea.”  
Neil glanced at Andrew who was in all black, and indeed, his black fox paw was fastened to his collar. Almost invisible on the black fabric.

There was no welcoming committee on the platform, just a squad of eight Peacekeepers who directed them into the back of an armored truck. Allison huffed as the door clanked close behind them. “Really, you’d think we were criminals,” she said.  
Neil bit his lip, not all of them. Just him. And maybe Andrew.

The truck let them out at the back of the Justice Building. They were hurried inside. Neil could smell an excellent meal being prepared, but it didn’t block out the odors of mildew and rot. They left them no time to look around.  
As they made a beeline for the front entrance, Neil could hear the anthem beginning outside in the square. Someone clipped a microphone on him.  
The mayor was introducing them as the massive doors opened with a groan.

“Leave the murder out of your eyes,” Allison hissed, and gave Neil a nudge.   
This was it. This was where he had to convince everybody how little he cared or wanted an uprising, a rebellion. For a moment he tested a smile, but Andrew pinched his waist and slowly shook his head. So it looked as horrible as it felt to Neil.

There was loud applause, but none of the other responses they got in the Capitol, the cheers and whoops and whistles. They walked across the shaded veranda until the roof ran out and they were standing at the top of a big flight of marble stairs in the glaring sun.

As usual, a special platform had been constructed at the bottom of the stage for the families of the dead tributes. On Amal’s side, there was only an old woman with a hunched back and a tall, lean girl. Neil was guessing his sister.  
On Robin’s side were only her parents. Neil remembered her telling them she was an only child. Her parents had only her. Their faces were still fresh with sorrow. It hit Neil how much Robin had looked like her mother, small with curly black hair, and big brown eyes.

The applause died out and the mayor gave the speech in their honor. Two little girls came up with tremendous bouquets of flowers. Then it was on Neil to do his part of the scripted reply, he did it for both of them since Andrew didn’t even look like he was mentally present.

And then it was time for the personal comment. Neil stared at Robin’s parents, his mouth opening and closing with words that wouldn’t come out. An uncomfortable silence befell the square until suddenly of all people it was Andrew who broke it.

“As a token of the debt we can never repay, we’ll give each of the tributes’ families from District 11 one month of our winnings every year for the rest of our lives.”

The crowd couldn’t help but respond with gasps and murmurs. There was no precedent for what Andrew had done. Neil didn’t even know if it was legal. Andrew probably didn’t know either, but he also didn’t care. He would have never asked beforehand, so no one could say anything.  
The families just stared at them in shock. Their lives had been changed forever when Amal and Robin had died, but this gift would change them again. A month of tribute winnings could easily provide for a family for a year. As long as Andrew and Neil lived, they would not hunger.

Neil looked at Andrew. He stood there totally indifferent as if he hadn’t just dropped a huge bomb. Neil was certain, Andrew hadn’t done this out of the goodness of his heart. His world consisted of promises and equivalent exchange. If he gave something he expected something in return and vice versa. He could never fully repay Robin and Amal for what they had done. This had to be enough.

The ceremony was almost over and Neil wanted to leave. He had had enough of this place. But his eyes found Robin’s parents again who would maybe never have to hunger again, but their daughter was still dead. Nothing would bring her back. He thought about his mother who had done everything to protect him and how Robin’s parents couldn’t have done anything.  
He cleared his throat, trying to find words. He didn’t know how to start, but once he did, the words rushed from his lips.

“I want to give my thanks to the tributes of District 11,” he said. He looked at the pair of women on Amal’s side. “I only ever spoke to Amal one time. Just long enough for him to spare my life. I didn’t know him. But he refused to play the Games on anyone’s terms but his own. The Careers wanted him to team up with them from the beginning, but he wouldn’t do it.”

For the first time the old hunched woman rose her head and the trace of a smile played on her lips. The crowd had fallen silent now, so silent that Neil wondered how they managed it.

He turned to Robin’s family. “I did know Robin. She wasn’t just my ally, she was my friend.” The word still felt weird in his mouth, in his head. But she had been his friend. “She was too young.” He only realized that as he was saying it out loud. He had grown up on pain and death, it didn’t really faze him anymore. But this was not the norm and there were children out there who didn’t have to live through this. If only the Capitol wouldn’t force them to. “I couldn’t save her,” he said, to himself and to everyone out there. “Thank you for your children.” After a moment he rose his chin to address the crowd. “And thank you all for the bread.”

He stood there. Somewhat empty and not quite sure when he had ever talked so much to so many people before. Without insulting anyone.   
There was a long pause. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, someone whistled Robin’s four-note tune. The one they had used to make sure they were safe in the arena.

By the end of the tune, Neil had found the whistler, a wizened old man in a faded red shirt and overalls. His eyes met Neil’s.

What happened next was not an accident. It was too well executed to be spontaneous, because it happened in complete unison. Every person in the crowd pressed the three middle fingers of their left hand against their lips and extended them to Neil and Andrew. The sign for their last goodbye, the one Neil had given Robin in the arena.

And Neil knew he was fucked. If he hadn’t spoken to Ichirou, the gesture might mean solidarity and a last farewell for Robin. But like this, a public salute to the boys who had defied the Capitol, it practically screamed of rebellion.

The full impact of what he had done hit Neil. It wasn’t intentional – he only wanted to express his thanks – but he had elicited something dangerous. An act of dissent from the people of District 11. Exactly the kind of thing he was supposed to be defusing, for Nicky’s and Aaron’s sake! For Andrew, and everybody else with a target on their backs because they associated with Neil!

He tried to think of something to say to undermine what had just happened, to negate it, but he could hear his microphone being cut off and the mayor took over. Neil acknowledged the final round of applause while Andrew suddenly tugged at Neil’s sleeve and lead him impatiently back towards the doors.

Neil felt funny and had to stop for a moment. Little bits of bright sunshine danced before his eyes. “Come on,” Andrew said.   
“I forgot the flowers,” Neil mumbled absentmindedly and turned around. They stood in the deep shade of the veranda now, and if Neil hadn’t stopped they would have been in the Justice Building by now. But like this, he could see a pair of Peacekeepers dragging the old man who had whistled to the top of the steps. Forcing him to his knees before the crowd. And putting a bullet through his head.

 

The man had only just crumpled to the ground when a wall of white Peacekeeper uniforms blocked their view. Several of the soldiers had automatic weapons held lengthwise as they pushed them back towards the doors. Neil knew Andrew wouldn’t take that well, so he shoved himself between them and Andrew and snapped, “We’re going!”

The moment they were inside, the doors slammed shut and Neil heard the Peacekeepers’ boots moving back towards the crowd.  
Renee, Wymack, Allison, Nicky, Aaron and Roland waited under a static-filled screen that was mounted on the wall, their faces tight with worry.

“What happened?” Nicky hurried over. “We lost the feed just after Neil’s beautiful speech, and then Aaron said he thought he heard a gun fire!”  
Neither Neil nor Andrew said anything. Two more shots. The door didn’t muffle their sound much.

“Both of you. With me,” said Wymack and snapped his fingers at them. Andrew and Neil followed him, leaving the others behind. They ascended a big, curved marble staircase, went through a room where their evening clothes hung on racks against a wall. The room had been prepared for their use. Wymack simply turned around and motioned for them to yank their microphones from their chests, then waved them on.

They passed several more doors and eventually climbed a ladder to a trapdoor. When Wymack pushed it aside, Neil found himself in the dome of the Justice Building. It was a huge place filled with broken furniture, piles of books and ledgers, and rusty weapons. The coat of dust blanketing everything was so thick it was clear it hadn’t been disturbed for years.

Wymack kicked the trapdoor shut and turned on them. “What happened?” he asked.

“Looks like Neil provoked his very own rebellion with that big mouth of his,” Andrew said unconcerned. He looked through a grimy window that gave direct view to the square beneath them.   
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Wymack asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

And Neil told him about Ichirou. And what had occurred on the square. “He threatened to kill Nicky and Aaron. And possibly everyone else as well.”

“He’s so noble, trying to protect everyone.” Andrew had turned around and regarded Neil with a mockingly arched eyebrow now. Wymack looked like he had aged several years in the past few minutes. “What about them?” He gestured towards the window, towards the people on the square. “Who protects them?”  
“But, Coach, Neil doesn’t care about them. And to be honest, it’s their own fault for starting it in the first place.”

Neil couldn’t disagree. The death of these people didn’t affect him. If they wanted to die for this, he couldn’t help it. But they also jeopardized his team with their rebelling. And that was something Neil actually cared about.  
Wymack seemed to understand after one glance at Neil. “For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with you? Don’t you care people are dying out there?” At their equally blank looks he only shook his head. “Forget it. I don’t even want to know.”

“What are we going to do now?” Neil asked. He had no idea how to proceed from now on. Ichirou would not be pleased with him. What had he said about grand speeches?

“What—what we’re going to do? I tell you that, Neil. You’re going to smile – yes try that sometime – and you’re going to read from the fucking Capitol cards and you’re going to keep your mouth shut. And you,” he turned to Andrew, pointing his forefinger at him, “what was that shit with giving the families your money? You’re to blame for what happened there, too! Don’t do that ever again.”

Andrew crossed his arms. “I don’t owe anyone anything anymore.” Then he tilted his head in a faux innocent manner, and said, “And how was I supposed to know? No Moriyama ever visited me.”  
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Minyard. From now on you do as I say. Can you do that?”

Neither of them answered, but they didn’t have to. Wymack gave them one last stern look, then his shoulders sagged.

“Come on. We’ve got a dinner to attend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again not much interaction with the other characters but I have to get the story into motion *sigh*  
> The next chapter is gonna be.... a lot. That's all I can say lol


	12. Andrew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Using a character's name as the chapter title is like saying "yes bad things are going to happen to this character"  
> Please take the warnings in the tags seriously, as we enter a chapter that deals with Andrew's story before he came to District 12. (It's basically the same as in canon, so you know what to expect)  
> Thank you to my beautiful [beta](http://marbledmaven.tumblr.com/) and everyone leaving comments and kudos! I love you!

The next few days became an indistinguishable round of dinners, ceremonies and train rides. Each day was the same. Waking up. Getting dressed. Riding through cheering crowds. Listening to a speech in their honor. Giving a thank-you speech in return, but only the one the Capitol had given them, never any personal additions anymore.

During the ceremonies, Andrew and Neil stood together, solemn and Neil at least trying to be respectful while Andrew simply didn’t care. He never said a word or acknowledged the crowd. Which in Neil’s and Wymack’s opinion was good, it just showed that Andrew, and therefore Neil, had no interest in any form of rebellion.   
Allison scolded them every time, though, until Renee calmed her down and gave both of them a knowing look. She knew by now what was at stake.

But even without Neil’s personal speeches to trigger dissent – naturally, the one he had given in District 11 had been edited out before the event had been broadcasted – he could feel something in the air, something that made Neil’s legs itch with the urge to run.   
Not everywhere, though. Some crowds had a weary-cattle feel, but after their visit in District 8, Neil had seen genuine elation in the faces of people at the sight of them, and under the elation fury.

When they had chanted Neil’s and Andrew’s names, it had been more of a cry of vengeance than a cheer. When the Peacekeepers had moved in to quiet the crowd, they had pressed back instead of retreating. And Neil knew there was nothing he could ever do to change that.

They had just left District 5 – it was not even midnight and their bellies were full with a lush dinner, but the mood had reached a new low. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened in 5, it was only that Nicky who usually tried to balance out the general gloominess with his cheerfulness, was tense and had his lips pressed together in a tight frown.

“Did you finally submit yourself to the darkness of your cousins, or what is going on?” Allison asked him over a glass of wine as they all sat together in the lounge.   
Nicky pressed his hands between his thighs and said, “No. Well, maybe yes. It’s just it’s been a while since I’ve seen 4.” Next to him Aaron crossed his arms and looked away.

“That’s right, better hide all the drugs,” Andrew said flatly, looking at his brother. “I won’t get you clean again.”  
Aaron’s look just then was murderous, but Renee cut in before a one-sided fight could break out. “What about Erik, Nicky? Do you want to see him? I bet we could invite him for the dinner.”

It was Aaron who answered in Nicky’s stead. “Oh, yes. I bet the mayor would _love_ to have Erik at his home! I wonder if he’ll even let Nicky in.”   
When everyone just stared at him, and Nicky nervously fumbled with his fingers without looking anyone in the eye, it dawned on Aaron.

“You don’t know that the mayor is Nicky’s father? And that he basically disowned Nicky after moving in with Erik?” It was certainly not Aaron’s story to tell, but now that it was out, everyone turned to Nicky.  
With a sigh he sat up. “You have to know my father is, well, quite conservative in his world view—”

“Luther is a bigoted piece of shit, he means,” Andrew interjected in a bored voice and dismissive wave of his hand. But Neil remembered their last night on the roof of the Training Center. The night before the Games. Andrew had mentioned Nicky’s father in a way that let Neil know what Andrew really thought about him. The only thing that was stronger than his constant indifference, anger.

“He thinks a relationship is supposed to be between a man and a woman. Of the same status,” Nicky continued, probably used to Andrew’s opinion of his father. “It wasn’t only that Erik’s a man, he’s also just a simple fisher. My Dad had quite a few things to say when he found out.”  
No nice things for sure. Allison clicked her tongue. “Well, if you want to stay in the train, that’s no problem. I could spit in his drink.”

That actually brought a weak smile to Nicky’s face. “No, I—I really want to see my mom. And Erik. I don’t know, maybe she has changed her mind? I haven’t talked to her in years.”  
“How many times do you have to get punched in the face before you learn, Nicky?” Andrew asked. He watched his cousin over the rim of his glass with dark eyes. Nicky looked almost guilty, as if he thought Andrew was right, and it was his fault for wanting to see his mother again while clinging to his optimism.

Neil thought about his own mother. How he would do anything to see her again. When Nicky opened his mouth, Neil interrupted him. “Invite him,” he said to Allison. “Invite Erik. He’s our guest.”  
Allison smirked. “Yes, sir! I’m going to call someone.” And she got up to walk to the neighboring car where the telephone was. Renee smiled approvingly, and Nicky only gaped at him.

“Oh, Neil. Getting into someone else’s business as usual. Let’s hope it won’t backfire this time,” Andrew said knowingly and stood up. “I for one will not attend this pretty little family gathering. I’m not interested in seeing Luther or his submissive wifey.”

Wymack snapped his fingers impatiently at him. “You will go. We’re not making a bad situation even worse.” He didn’t have to say what would happen should Andrew not attend the ceremony. It would give the districts even more reason to revolt. How would it look if the boy who had defied the Capitol once didn’t show up to an official Capitol event?

Andrew didn’t seem to care. “No.”  
Before Wymack could argue, Neil said, “He doesn’t have to go. We can just say he’s sick or something.”  
“Stop trying to defend him every time he’s being difficult,” Wymack said, annoyed. He was tired. But so was Neil.  
“Well, apparently someone has to,” Neil said coolly and got up. “I’ll go to bed, good night.”

He noticed Andrew following him, but neither of them said a word. When Neil reached the door to his compartment, he thought Andrew would continue his way down the hall to his own. But he didn’t, instead he blocked Neil’s way and gave him a slow once over, arms crossed, looking completely immovable. Neil didn’t even bother trying to get past him.

“Stop defending my nonexistent honor. No one asked you.”

“Yes, I know. You never ask anyone for anything, you never want anything. I get it, okay? I can do whatever I want, though,” Neil said, irritated by Andrew and the whole situation they were in. The past few days had left him even more tired than the months after the Games or even the weeks after his mother’s death. Then he had at least known what to do next. That it was on him to move, to keep on going. Now his fate rested in the unreliable hands of Ichirou Moriyama.

“Great. Then shut your mouth and let the grown-ups talk next time.” Andrew gave him a lazy wave with his hand and vanished in his own room. Too exhausted to really care anymore, Neil simply shed his clothes, pulled on a too big shirt and crawled in his bed.

 

That night he had an awful nightmare. Usually he would just startle himself out of sleep, panting, but never screaming. When he woke up this time, he was thrashing so wildly he knocked the lamp from the bedside table, and it crashed down, shattering on the floor.

In the dark, soaked in sweat, Neil tried to calm himself. A glance at the clock showed he had barely slept two hours. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath and tried to see how far the shards were spread out. As the moon was mostly hidden behind clouds, he couldn’t make out much.

A sudden movement at the door made Neil’s head snap around. The silhouette leaning against the frame he recognized immediately.

“Thought you finally managed to kill yourself. Imagine my disappointment,” Andrew said.   
Neil huffed, “And make your life easier? Never.”

Andrew entered the room and switched the light on. The bright ceiling light blinded Neil for a second and he had to rub his eyes. In the meantime Andrew came closer and examined the mess on the floor. “Not your usual style of waking up.”

He would know. Sometimes, when Andrew decided to sleep at Neil’s place, they crossed paths in the hallway. Andrew on his way out for a cigarette, Neil to go for a run.  
“There’s a first time for everything,” Neil said, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. Andrew watched him for a second. “Indeed, there is. Well, sleep tight. I don’t think I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before Andrew could leave, Neil called out, “Wait!” Embarrassed at how desperate that had sounded, he back-pedaled. “I mean, I wanted to ask you something.”  
“Last time I checked it was my turn.”  
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Neil said. Andrew eyed him a moment longer but then turned completely around, signaling he was listening.

“Do you want to sit down? Or do I have to get a stiff neck looking up at you all night?” Neil gestured to the big, comfortable armchair next to the bed.   
“Welcome to my world,” Andrew said, but sat down. They stared at each other over the broken lamp on the floor and the dozen pillows Neil had had to throw out of the bed to find any comfort.

“What is your problem with Nicky’s father?” Neil asked right away. There was no reaction on Andrew’s face whatsoever, but his answer was immediate. “I won’t talk about Luther.”  
Neil wanted to protest, but ultimately it was Andrew’s decision and he had offered to not answer the question, after all.

“Okay,” Neil said and laid back down on his side, back to the wall and face to Andrew. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and studied Andrew’s face under the harsh light. He had dark shadows under his eyes and a light sunburn over his nose and cheeks.

“Will you come with me tomorrow?” The thought of standing alone on the stage without Andrew’s solid presence beside him made Neil uneasy. Andrew seemed to consider the question at least, and after a minute or so he asked, “What would you give me in return?”  
Neil didn’t have to think about the answer. “Whatever you want.”  
“Don’t be so rash with your promises, Neil,” said Andrew.   
“I’m not. Just tell me what you want. Or not want, I forgot. You want nothing, right?”

“You’re annoying,” he said, and after a beat of silence, “I’ll think of something.”  
Neil smiled in the fabric of his blanket. For a moment they were silent, until Neil said, “Tell me something.”  
“Why?” Andrew folded his arms on the armrest and placed his head on them, facing Neil.  
“Neither of us will sleep anymore tonight, so we could just sit around and stare at each other or you could tell me something. I don’t know, what’s your favorite color? Or are questions like this included in your truth game?”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed slightly. “They are.” He paused, then added, “So what is _your_ favorite color?”  
As it was Andrew’s turn, Neil was obliged to answer. And since he had never thought about something so trivial before, he had to contemplate about the answer briefly.  
“Gray,” he said eventually.  
“That’s not a color,” Andrew said. Neil only shrugged. “It is for me. So what is your favorite color?”

They spent the time like this, questions and answers, sometimes offering information by their own accord, until the darkness outside turned into twilight and they watched in silence as the sun rose slowly.

 

In the evening, Neil found himself in a ostentatious room in Mayor Hemmick’s house, tugging at the silky collar of his pale blue shirt.  
“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked Roland who was mussing Neil’s hair.  
Roland gave him an amused smile. “It’s all about the aesthetic, Neil. And I know of a few people who actually like the styling choices I make for you.”  
There was no space left between skin and fabric and Neil felt like he wore a second uncomfortable skin that restricted his breathing.  
“Just so you know, I’m not one of them.”

The dinner took place in a big banquet hall on the ground floor of the mayor’s house. Neil stood in a corner and watched the crowd consisting of District 4 officials and a few invited guests. Fortunately, during the ceremony there had been no time to get into closer contact with the mayor or his wife, so they had been spared from any awkward interaction.

Now, however, many of the attending party guests wanted to shake hands again. After a while they got rid of them, though, and Neil spotted Luther and Maria Hemmick talking to their son.   
Luther Hemmick was a tall, rake-thin man with a severe face. He didn’t have much hair left but he kept a pepper beard trimmed short and neat. It was incomprehensible to Neil how this man was related to Aaron and Andrew, let alone Nicky’s actual father. He shook Nicky’s hand, and even across the room Neil could see the tense set to his shoulders. He wasn’t looking forward to this reunion anymore than Nicky was.

Next to him, Maria Hemmick gave her son an awkward kiss on the cheek, like she was greeting an acquaintance. But Neil could see the resemblance between her and Nicky in an instant. The thick dark hair. The eyes and the curve to their mouths.

“This is even more painful than watching you interacting with Bee,” Andrew said from beside him. He had been forced into the same skin-tight shirt as Neil, in black of course, but wore it like everything else regarding his life. With complete indifference. Even as the fabric was stretching over his folded arms and Neil wondered if it would just rip.

Before he could say anything – he wasn’t that bad with Bee! – someone with a smooth, deep voice called out Nicky’s name. A tall man cut his way through the crowd. He had sun-kissed skin, short blond hair and a big smile. “Nicky!”

Nicky’s parents went visibly pale at the sight of him, but Nicky’s whole face lit up. Neil had seen him happy and excited before, but never in such an honest way. He left his parents to their misery and threw himself in Erik Klose’s arms.   
For a moment Neil watched them, then turned away. His eyes fell on Luther Hemmick who had spotted them in their corner and slowly was making his way towards them.

If Neil was fed up with one thing, it was socializing and interacting with people for tonight and probably forever. And Luther seemed to be the kind of man Neil definitely didn’t want to be getting close to.

“I’m going to check on Allison for a bit,” he muttered to Andrew, trying to sneak off. He didn’t make it far, Andrew’s hand grabbed his shoulder and held him back.  
“You wanted me to attend this happy little family reunion, remember? You wouldn’t leave me like this now, would you?”

With gritted teeth, Neil watched Luther approaching, only pausing occasionally to chat with important enough people. When he finally stopped in front of them, he gave Neil a quick nod while his eyes were fixated on Andrew. Andrew stared right through him, not even acknowledging his presence.

“Congratulations on winning,” Luther said to Neil after a long uncomfortable silence. Neil simply nodded, not interested in talking to the man. He glanced longingly at Aaron who was lurking nearby, obviously trying to eavesdrop. Neil would gladly switch places with him.  
“Andrew,” Luther said. “I’d like to talk to you in private for a moment.”  
Andrew tilted his head, finally looking at Luther. “Are you worried about Neil here? Don’t be, we keep no secrets from each other. Didn’t you know? We are as degenerate as your son, except the people love us for it.”

Luther’s already sour face twisted even more at that. He looked from Andrew to Neil and back again. “I met Cass last month. She asked me about you,” he said eventually.  
Andrew held up his wrist, as if checking the time. “Now would you look at that! We really have to go. As always it was a displeasure talking to you.” He grabbed Neil’s arm and started to pull him along.

“She also said Drake misses you. Maybe you could use your time in the Capitol to resolve that misunderstanding between you and him,” Luther called out after them.   
The grip on Neil’s arm suddenly became painful as Andrew’s hand tightened around it. He stood frozen for a second, but quickly resumed walking again, dragging Neil with him.

“What was that?” Neil asked, voice strained from the pain. “What kind of misunderstanding—”  
“Shush, Neil, shush,” Andrew said, pressing his free hand over Neil’s mouth. “I really don’t like that word.”

Neil watched as Andrew’s knuckles turned white around his arm. He tried to get a glimpse of his face, too. But when he managed to do so, it was blank. In fact, Andrew was somewhere far away in his head right now. Neil had seen him like this before, after the gift from Drake in the arena.

Suddenly Andrew let go of him, as if he had just burned himself. Without another word he walked away, somewhere in the general direction of the bathroom.

“What did he say?” Aaron asked as he came up by Neil’s side.  
“Ask him,” Neil said and made his way over to the table. He considered briefly to follow Andrew, but decided against it.

He took his seat next to Renee, filling his mouth with food even though he wasn’t hungry. Andrew’s seat stayed empty for the whole night.

Back on the train, Andrew left immediately for his room. Neil watched him go, and chose to sit with Nicky who was looking wistfully out of the window.  
“How did it go?” Neil asked. He wasn’t really interested in Nicky’s evening, he had seen how things had played out with Erik and his parents. But he needed confirmation for something else.

Nicky sighed. “Erik wants to move to District 12.” Neil blinked, confused at Nicky’s bleak tone of voice. “Isn’t that good?”  
“Not really. I know him. He’s basically a fish, he lives in the water. He could never be happy in a place surrounded by woods and mountains.” Neil only nodded at that, but Nicky wasn’t done yet. “And my mother can’t even stand being near me anymore. She even said she won’t come to the Capitol party if I’ll be there.”

Huh? So the mayors of the districts were also invited to Andrew’s and his party in the Capitol. They probably needed an excuse to talk politics in a place where most of them could be present.  
“Will your father come?” Neil asked.  
“Of course. He would never pass an opportunity to refresh his connections there.” Great, one more face to avoid, Neil thought.

He let a few seconds go by in silence, before asking, “Do you know someone named Cass?”

Nicky glanced at him. He seemed to be thinking, because after a while he said, “I think that was Andrew’s last foster mom. Cass… Spear. Yes, that’s her. Why?”  
Neil bit his lip. “Ah, it’s nothing. Your father mentioned her. Do you know why he and Andrew have such a problem with each other?”  
“Who knows?” Nicky huffed. He started to draw invisible patterns on the windowpane. “They’ve only met once, when my father wanted the twins to meet each other. But you’ve seen him for yourself. It’s not that surprising that Andrew can’t stand him.”

Neil couldn’t argue with that. “I’m going to bed,” he said and stood up. “See you tomorrow.”

When he was lying in bed that night, he tried to piece the puzzle together. He was positive Cass was Drake’s mother and therefore the woman who had almost adopted Andrew. Almost. Something was missing, and Neil tried to figure it out until he finally sunk in an exhausted, restless sleep.

 

The following districts went by in another blur of staged thank-you speeches and shaking people’s hands while trying to avoid any further reactions from the residents. District 2 and 3 had similar responses to them as 8. Neil was a little surprised, he had more or less killed both tributes from 2. But Gorilla’s cruel death had the people furious. At the Capitol, not at him.

By the time they reached the Capitol, everyone was positively worn out. But here, they didn’t have to worry about any uprisings. Among the privileged, among those whose names were never placed in the reaping balls, whose children never died for supposed crimes committed generations ago, they could finally relax a little more.

They took up their old quarters in the Training Center, where they had time to prepare for the evening. The second to last event before they’d be finally free of the Victory Tour. One evening suffering through Capitol people, then the Harvest Festival in 12 and afterwards they had months to hide before the Anniversary Year Games.

Neil lay flat on his back in his room and stared at the ceiling which still resembled a night sky. In an hour they had another interview with Kathy Ferdinand and afterwards there was the party at the president’s mansion.   
Whether Kengo and Ichirou would attend the party was unclear, but Riko would show up for sure. He was Head Gamemaker now, and he would certainly blame Neil for his uncle’s death.

Turning on his side and staring at the clean polished floor, Neil wondered why Riko hadn’t told his father anything. Wouldn’t that be the best excuse to get on his father’s good side? And even more suspicious was the fact that Ichirou hadn’t found out about Neil’s real identity. Sure, his mother’s contacts were good, but to fool the future president? Questionable.

Roland came in and prepared Neil. This time his shirt gave him a little more breathing room. It was stark white while the suit was in black with some red glimmer, only visible in the right lighting.

An hour later they stood on the stage before the Training Center and made it through a list of questions. Questions from people all over the Capitol, and, of course, Kathy adding her two cents. Most of them were surprisingly civil and Neil could answer them without ripping Kathy’s head off.

Ichirou Moriyama himself made a surprise visit to congratulate them on their successful Victory Tour. He shook Andrew’s hand, assessing him while Andrew’s eyes were sharp for once, aware of the person standing in front of him.  
He also clasped Neil’s hand, a firm handshake, maybe a little too firm. Neil dared to raise his eyebrows. They asked what his lips couldn’t. _Was it enough?_  
In answer, Ichirou gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

In that one slight motion, Neil saw the death of everyone around him. Everyone he had come close to in the last few months, and to his surprise he actually cared about every single one of them.   
He couldn’t guess what form his punishment would take, but for the very first time he found himself wishing it would be his father carrying it out. Not because Neil _wanted_ to die, but his father operated under one strict rule. He always went after the cause of the trouble. Never the family, or the friends. If Neil had to carry the consequences so be it, but at least that would leave Andrew and the others out of the picture.

A weird sense of relief came over him. At least he knew where he stood now. This gnawing feeling of uncertainty was finally gone.

“Stop planning how you will sacrifice yourself for everyone again,” Andrew whispered into his ear when they left the stage.  
Neil stared at him, surprised and also a little caught. Andrew who noticed that pressed a thumb under Neil’s right eye. “Your face is like an open book, Neil. You have this look in your eyes when you’re thinking about something stupid,” he said. “So, Ichirou was probably not satisfied with your performance. Figures.” He took the thumb away and they followed Wymack to a car that would bring them to the party. “Then we should tell Nicky and Aaron.”

Neil nodded. There was no reason left to hide the truth from them. If they were to die, they should at least know why. Neil could already imagine what Aaron had to say about all of this, and it made Neil’s mouth twitch in irritation.

 

The party, held in the banquet room of President Moriyama’s mansion, had no equal. The twelve-meter ceiling had been transformed into the night sky, and the stars looked exactly like the ones he had so often looked at while on the run with his mother.  
About halfway between the floor and the ceiling, musicians floated on what looked like fluffy white clouds, but Neil couldn’t see what held them aloft.

Traditional dining tables had been replaced by innumerable stuffed sofas and chairs, some surrounding fireplaces, others beside fragrant flower gardens or ponds filled with exotic fish, so people could eat and drink and do whatever they pleased in the utmost comfort.

There was a large tiled area in the center of the room that served as everything from dance floor, to a stage for the performers who came and went, to another spot to mingle with the flamboyantly dressed guests.

But the real star of the evening was the food. Tables laden with delicacies lined the walls. Whole roasted cows and pigs and goats still turning on spits. Huge platters of fowl stuffed with savory fruits and nuts. Ocean creatures drizzled in sauces were begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions. Countless cheeses, breads, vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine and streams of spirits that flickered with flames.

Allison linked arms with Renee and pulled her straight to the buffet. Wymack left them for people he apparently knew, and Aaron and Nicky went for the alcohol. That left Roland, Andrew and Neil who seized the moment as no one had noticed them yet and hid themselves in a quiet corner to eat.

Neil hadn’t caught sight of Luther or Riko yet so he relaxed gradually after a while. Roland left them for a few friends he had spotted and soon it was only them, tasting different kind of foods and trying to guess what was in them.   
Andrew would every so often glance up and look for his twin, only turning back to what he was doing when he had found him in the crowd.

“Are you waiting for him to snap?” Neil asked after the fifth or so time.   
“No,” Andrew said and started to stack colorful little fruits into a pyramid. “But this place could get him hooked in no time. And I’m not feeling like getting that shit out of him again.” He looked up again, but this time he couldn’t find Aaron anymore. He stood up, eyes scanning his surroundings. “Stay here,” he told Neil and left.

Annoyed about Andrew ordering him around, but not really feeling like mingling with the crowd, Neil leaned back and watched the different faces appearing around him.  
Puzzled, he noted that his fox paw pin had spawned a new fashion sensation. Several people walked around with it as accessories, such as belt buckles, embroidery on silk lapels, even tattooed in visible places. Apparently everyone wanted to wear the winner’s token. He could only imagine how nuts that made the Moriyamas. But what could he do? The Games had been such a hit in the Capitol, where the berries were only a symbol of… love, or whatever Ichirou had called it.

Suddenly, someone threw themselves on the sofa across from Neil. Neil startled, but only for a second, that was how long it took him to identify Kevin. As always he was completely in black, the two on his face glowing under the dim light. They stared at each other over Andrew’s little fruit pyramid.

“Gamemaker, huh?” Neil asked then, hardly concealing his thoughts about that notion. Kevin crossed his arms. “Yes, and you’ll be a mentor. You should try socializing more, it could get you sponsors.”  
“I don’t care for sponsors. I’m done with the Games.” Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say in a place where the people loved the Games, and districts were on the verge of uprisings, all the while Neil’s head was at stake should he cause any more trouble. But Kevin said nothing, he only watched Neil thoughtfully for a moment.

Not quite done irritating Kevin yet, Neil said, “Are you planning the Anniversary Year Games, already? Maybe putting Capitol children in the arena for a change?”  
“Don’t be so stupid. The plans for the Games have been in the works for years, of course. Arenas aren’t built in a day. And the twist is not mine to decide. At least not alone.”  
“No, of course not. That’s all on Riko now. I hope he’ll have more luck than his uncle,” Neil spit out.

As if Riko would suddenly materialize behind him, Kevin looked over his shoulder, eyes wide. “Shut up,” he hissed at Neil. “Stop being such a coward,” Neil hissed back.  
Kevin glared at him. “You have no idea—forget it.” He pulled out an onyx watch on a chain from a vest pocket. He flipped open the lid, saw the time, and frowned. “I’ve got a strategy meeting tonight. I have to go.” He turned the watch so Neil could see the face. “It starts at eleven.”

“That’s great—” Neil said dryly, but then something distracted him. Kevin had run his thumb across the crystal face of the watch and for just a moment an image appeared, glowing as if lit by candlelight. It was another fox paw. Exactly like the pin Neil had on his lapel. Only this one disappeared. He snapped the watch close.

Kevin stood up, giving Neil one last patronizing look. “I’ll see you next summer at the Games. And Andrew. Tell him to drop his difficult act.”  
Neil watched him disappear in the crowd and in the very last second he caught a glimpse of Riko joining him. Riko gave Neil a knowing look over his shoulder, but did nothing else. Soon he was gone with Kevin.

Slowly, Neil turned to look for familiar faces. Where did Andrew even go? Forcing Aaron to throw up in the bathroom? As it was them, who knew? Annoyed by the encounter with Kevin, Neil decided to leave his seat and find something to eat, or at least someone he knew.   
He made it relatively unseen to the fruit bar and started to pick out random sorts of fruit he had never seen before.

“Careful, the blue ones are actually very spicy,” someone said next to him. Neil had to look up to find the stranger’s face. It was a shockingly normal looking man, maybe a few years older than Neil. He wore an expensive vest, but no make-up or anything crazy in his hair.  
“Uh, thank you,” Neil muttered and kept the blue berries on his plate.   
“So you like spicy?” the stranger asked and Neil tried his best not to roll his eyes. “Could be interesting,” he said. Why was everyone so persistent here?

“Yeah, well. Trying new things is always fun. Congratulations on winning the Games by the way. Couldn’t catch you and your partner last time at the party.”  
Neil blinked. “Uh, yeah. And you are?”  
The man laughed and waved Neil off. “Just one of your many sponsors. You kept us really on the edge there, but it paid off as we both can see.”  
“Okay…” Neil said. “Thank you and I’ll tell Andrew about your congratulations later.” The man smiled, “Don’t worry. I’ll tell him myself once I find him. Maybe you can join us, then. Anyway, enjoy the meal!” And like that he was swallowed by a throng of people. These Capitol people were really starting to creep Neil out.

He popped one of the blue berries in his mouth and noted that the man had not lied. They were spicy, but in a good, refreshing way. He tried a few more until he saw Aaron refilling his glass a few meters from him. Neil elbowed his way to him and almost stumbled into the chocolate fountain.

“Where’s Andrew?” he asked. Aaron frowned at him. “He was with Nicky and Uncle Luther.” So Luther had found him. Hopefully he was still alive, or Andrew would have even more problems. “Show me where,” Neil urged and after some arguing Aaron led him to where a tight-lipped Nicky stood with his father, who wore an equally displeased expression.

“Where’s Andrew?” Neil repeated his question. Luther only glanced at him and Nicky’s frown deepened. Eventually he said, “I’d like to know that, too. They were arguing and suddenly Andrew went off.” By addressing his father he asked, “What did you say to him?”

“Calm down, Nicholas. You’re making a scene. He’ll come back when he’s finished speaking with Drake.”  
Neil’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”  
“I met Drake earlier, one of Andrew’s former foster brothers,” Luther said, “He wanted a chance to talk with Andrew in private. You see, they parted on unfriendly terms years ago, and Drake was really worried their relationship was irreparably damaged. So I told Andrew I wanted to discuss some matters regarding Aaron and Nicholas with him and sent him upstairs. No need to worry.”

Luther’s voice was a buzz in Neil’s head. Neil had no idea what was going on, or what he would discover if he went after Andrew now. But he remembered the way Andrew had thrown the cookies away. His reaction when Drake was brought up. This was not a person Andrew should be left alone with. His eyes darted to the marble stairs that led to the next floor.

He grabbed Aaron’s arm for backup, because Aaron was closer than Nicky, and bolted for the stairs.  
“What the fuck?” Aaron asked, once they were upstairs, but Neil quieted him with a violent hiss. The party noise was too loud to hear anything, but it wasn’t really necessary either.  
Like the hallway Riko had threatened Neil in, this one was long, with several doors on both sides, all open. All, except for one.

They stopped in front of the massive wooden door and Neil let Aaron go. He pressed his ear against it, but the wood was too thick to make anything out. But then he heard a distant thumb, as if something was hitting the wall. Neil tried the knob and found it unlocked. He looked over his shoulder, making sure Aaron was still there before tearing the door open.

The door banged against the wall, loud enough for Drake to turn around. He said something, but Neil didn’t know what. There was just a roar in Neil’s ears as his whole world came crashing down on him.

He only had a second to take it in, but that second was enough to burn every single last detail into him in a way he’d never forget. He recognized Drake. The man that had warned him about the spicy fruit. That had told him he would congratulate Andrew later, and maybe Neil could join them.

He had blood on his face now, jagged lines, as if someone had tried to claw the skin off. His heavy body kept Andrew pinned to the mattress, an arm across the back of Andrew’s neck forced him in a blood-splattered pillow. Drake’s other hand was up at the headboard, squeezed tight around Andrew’s wrists.

Neil knew what he was seeing, too much blood, too much skin, and he felt violence explode in his heart. For a brief moment he understood how his father could tear a human body into pieces while enjoying himself doing so.

But before Neil could even react, Aaron was already leaping past him, almost hard enough to take Neil off his feet. Drake looked like he could take any of them in a fight, even with his pants around his ankles, but he was too tangled in the sheets to get up fast enough.

Aaron grabbed one of the heavy marble busts from a dresser next to the door and brought it down heavily on Drake’s head. He caught him in his temple, crushing one eye in its socket with a wet crunch as bones splintered.   
Drake’s blood splashed from Aaron to the wall, over the sheets. His body tumbled off the far side of the bed, dragging the sheets with it and hitting the ground with a meaty thud.

The bloody bust slipped from Aaron’s numb fingers to the floor.  
Neil couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at Drake, couldn’t look at anything but Andrew.  
Andrew wore only his shirt as he lay facedown on the mattress. He was covered in blood, his hair was crusty with it, and he still held onto the headboard. He wasn’t moving at all.

For a long, horrible moment Neil thought he was dead. Then, slowly, he turned his head to Neil. His face was completely blank. Not just his usual indifference, but like his soul had left his body and Neil was staring at an uninhabited body.

At once Neil dove forward and climbed onto the mattress at Andrew’s side. He reached over him to yank the sheets free from Drake’s corpse and pulled it over Andrew.

“Hey,” Neil said hoarsely, “Andrew. Andrew, are you—” Was he what? Not okay for sure. He couldn’t ask him that. He felt Andrew’s body tremble through the sheets and after a long silence, Andrew finally let go of the headboard. He planted his hands against the mattress and tried pushing himself up. Halfway there he went still, panting and suddenly he was looking Neil straight in the eyes. “I don’t like this.”

Neil wanted to tell him to hold still, but Andrew finally got himself upright. Blood was smeared and half-dried in a line down his cheek to his chin from a gash at his temple. He noticed Neil’s glance and said, “I think I’m concussed. That’s a new one. Even for Drake.”

The strangled noise Aaron made was probably supposed to be Andrew’s name. It was barely intelligible but it was enough. Andrew’s eyes immediately snapped to his brother. He snaked a hand out from under the sheet and curled his fingers in demand. Aaron climbed onto the bed and reached for Andrew. Andrew tried moving out of his way, but that was finally too much for him and he started retching.

“Andrew,” Aaron said, desperate and frightened. “What—he—”  
Andrew spat a couple of times. “Shush, now,” he said. “Look at me.” He sat up and faced Aaron. He touched Aaron’s bloodied shirt, then his temple where he himself was injured. “Did he touch you?”

“What did he—” Aaron started, but Andrew tightened his grip on Aaron’s shirt and yanked at it. “Answer me. Did he touch you?”  
“No,” Aaron said.   
“I’m going to kill him,” Andrew said.  
Neil spared a quick glance to Drake’s bashed in skull. “He’s already dead.”  
“I’m not talking about him.”

A sudden gasp from the door turned their attention from Andrew. Nicky stood there, both hands pressed over his mouth in shock. And Neil realized what kind of situation they were in. Aaron had killed someone, a Capitol resident. No matter what the reasons were, it would fall back on Andrew and their current problem with the Moriyamas. They would use this to get rid of Andrew and his brother once and for all.

“Don’t,” said Neil to Nicky as he came closer. They had to clean up here. “Nicky,” Neil said urgently. It took Nicky a second to tear his eyes away from his cousin. “What happen—” he tried to ask, but Neil cut in. “Get Renee and Wymack. Don’t say anything, just tell them to come with you.” He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Almost midnight. In two hours they had to be back on the train. “Tell Allison and Roland to meet us at the train station.”   
Nicky looked at him like he was insane. “We have to tell someone—”  
“Go!” Neil snapped at him.

Before Nicky could leave, Andrew said, “Get your father, too.”

They were only alone for a minute or so before Luther entered the room, alone. So he had been lurking nearby. He took the scene in front of him in. “What on earth—” Luther started, voice hoarse.  
“No,” Andrew interrupted him. “No. Don’t ask what. You know better. You know better,” he said again, with surprising heat. It was gone, though, when he continued, “Looks like I was right about him, hm? Or is this all still a big misunderstanding? Go on, tell me again how I’m too unbalanced to understand normal brotherly affection and love. Tell me this is natural.”

Aaron’s flinch was full body. Neil wanted to throw up now, too.   
“And now you brought him here to me. You put him near your son and my brother. After everything I did to keep them away from each other?” Andrew gave Aaron’s shirt another yank, before finally letting go. “I will kill you, Luther. That’s a promise.”

“This has happened before.” Aaron’s face was white with fear and horror. He stared at Andrew, but Andrew didn’t bother anymore. He was staring at the wall behind Luther, so Aaron dragged his attention to Luther’s face. “This has happened before, and you knew about it. You knew what he’d done and you put him in a room with Andrew anyway.”

“Is that true?” Nicky asked from the door. Behind him were Renee and Wymack. Renee’s face was devoid of any emotion and Neil recognized the girl from ten years ago in it.   
Luther opened his mouth, then closed it again. Aaron only gave him a couple of seconds to answer before snapping. “Get out of here,” he said and when Luther wasn’t fast enough, screamed, “Get out of here!”

He left and Wymack and Renee entered, taking in what had happened in complete silence.  
“We need you to see a doctor,” Renee said eventually. She looked at Andrew without a trace of her usual smile. “I know someone,” Wymack added. What he left unsaid was that he knew someone who wouldn’t ask questions. They were all aware of how thin the ice was they were treading on. Well, except Aaron and Nicky. But they were too shocked by what had just happened to demand answers.

Wymack and Renee helped Andrew get up. Neil had the feeling he wasn’t even present anymore, his body did function but his mind was somewhere else, as he held the bloody sheet tightly around his shoulders. Before they left the room, Wymack asked with a look to Drake’s body, “What about him? Should we just leave him here?” Hope someone else would find him and not put the pieces together? Neil looked around, he was fairly sure the room was not monitored, or else Drake would have never chosen it. He wouldn’t be that stupid.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, well aware of the stares that earned him. He had helped his mother once or twice  get rid of a body, but never to this extent. This was a complete crime scene to clean, and they weren’t somewhere in the woods either. They were in the heart of the Capitol, in the president’s mansion with hundreds of witnesses a floor below them.

After a moment, Renee waved Aaron over to help Andrew. “I’ll help,” she said to Neil.   
Nicky led the way to make sure no one would surprise the others while they headed towards the back exit in the kitchen. That left Neil and Renee with a 90 kilogram corpse, a blood soaked bed and more blood on the floor and the wall.

“What do you need?” asked Renee as she shed her jacket and tied her hair back. Neil closed his eyes. He thought about his father’s study. The plastic foil on the ground. The cleaver to cut off body parts. “Have you ever disposed of a body?” he asked her.  
“No,” she said. Neil looked at her. “Me neither.”  
With a thoughtful hum Renee looked around the room, before walking over to the window. She opened it and a gust of fresh air filled the bloody smelling room. “What do you think would be the best way?”

Neil came up by her side and looked down into the dark garden. “Could you get me a few things?”

As Renee went off to find him a list of things, Neil shrugged out of his suit jacket and threw it over a sofa. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and repressed any conscious thought of his father and what he was about to do. He was no one. This was nothing.

It took them way longer than just two hours. Renee had found most of the things around the public spaces in the mansion, for the rest they had to improvise. While Neil tried to remember how his father had done it, how Lola had explained it to him, Renee started to work on the bloody floor.

As they couldn’t simply rip off the blood splattered wallpaper they had to rearrange the furniture so it would be hidden behind an armchair. The mattress they simply turned around, the sheets they stuffed into the garbage bags with Drake’s severed body parts. Even if someone found all the blood, without a body or a weapon there wasn’t proof of a crime.

“What are you going to do with the bust?” Renee asked him as they were throwing the garbage bags with Drake’s limbs out of the window. They planned on bringing them to the kitchen, hiding them between all the other garbage that would be burned the following day.

“I’ll take it with me and get rid of it in 12.” Renee only nodded at that. As the party was still ongoing, they didn’t try to be sneaky. Neil hid his blood stained shirt under the suit jacket, same as Renee. They washed their hands in the en suite bathroom and quickly wiped the blood off the bust.

No one paid them any attention anymore, everyone was so high and drunk they couldn’t even recognize themselves in the mirror. The kitchen staff looked surprised when they came around with the garbage bags, but Renee told them with a smile that this was how things were done in District 12. They accepted that and even helped with throwing the bags in the big container with the other garbage.

It was past four in the morning when Wymack picked them up and drove them to the train station in silence. “How is he?” Neil dared to ask when they got out of the car.  
Wymack rubbed over his face. “He’s been talking to Betsy.”   
“Is that safe?” Renee asked. Thinking about bugged phone lines. “Who knows? I’m tired of this. Let’s go home.”

Wymack went ahead and Neil lingered a moment with Renee. “Why don’t you ask?”   
All evening she had followed Neil’s instructions without ever questioning him once. She regarded Neil a moment, then she smiled. It was small and he could see the exhaustion in it. But it was honest. “You don’t want me to know. And I respect that. You’re also the only one who knew something was wrong. I know you might not see it that way, Neil. But you went looking for him. For the first time someone did.”

Neil really didn’t want to hear that. He climbed onto the train and the second the door closed behind Renee, it began to move. They parted ways without another word. Neil wanted to burn the clothes he was wearing, maybe he would simply throw them out of the window.

He opened the door to his compartment and froze when he saw Andrew standing there. He wore fresh clothes and was free of any half-dried blood, but there wasn’t much they could do to hide the mess Drake had made out of his face. Of course, with the Capitol’s medicine tomorrow there would be nothing left to see, but for now it still looked bad enough.

Andrew watched him enter. He eyed Neil’s dirty clothes and said, “You and wonder girl had a fun night out?” Neil didn’t respond to that. He tossed the jacket in a corner, waiting for Andrew to leave so he could take a shower. Andrew was only staring blankly at Neil, and Neil wondered what he was thinking behind those dull eyes. There was nothing to indicate that tonight meant anything to him. And maybe it didn’t. Neil couldn’t live with that.

“How long?” he asked finally. If Cass had almost adopted him, then he had lived with them quite some time. Andrew understood the question. “A few years maybe. Who counts anyway?”  
A few years. “Why?” Why hadn’t he left earlier? The sudden change from the Capitol to District 12 made sense now, except Andrew had lived like this for years. “Because she wanted to adopt you?”

Andrew tilted his head. “You know, Cass really wanted me. Me, as her son. Andrew Joseph Spear. Has a nice ring to it after years of being no one, don’t you think?” Neil crossed his arms. As if he wouldn’t know that feeling. “He would have left eventually. He wanted to be a Peacekeeper in 1, only a few more years before he would have transferred.”

“You wanted to outlast him,” Neil concluded. Andrew took a step towards him and lifted his hand, fingers slowly tightening around Neil’s throat. There were only a few inches space between them, and Neil wanted to recoil. Nevertheless, he asked, “What changed your mind?” Why choose life in 12 all of a sudden.

Andrew’s hand slid from his throat around his neck and he pulled Neil down to him. He lowered his voice and said, “Of course, Aaron went wrong. He wouldn’t give up, so Drake deferred his transfer. He wanted to make the most out of his remaining time with his baby brother. He was so excited about the revelation of my twin. He asked Cass if we could invite Aaron for a couple of weeks so we could meet. Cass, of course, left it up to me. Drake tried talking me into it. Wanted us both in the same place. Together in his bed. It’d be picture perfect.”

Neil flinched. He wanted to push Andrew away, but Andrew grabbed his chin and held him into place. “And do you want to know what he said to me earlier? He really liked you. Maybe we could do something together, the four of us.” He let go of Neil and stepped back. “I told him I would kill him. Now look how my brother also ruined that. I can’t believe he did that. Probably the most decisive thing he’s ever done. I wonder where that spine was when his mother was beating him? Would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

“You’re quite talkative today,” Neil said. His mind was reeling with all the new information. With Drake talking about him. About Aaron. What he had _done_ to Andrew.  
“Bee said I should talk with you about it. I can’t wait for her to get her hands on you. You will hate it.” He neatly stepped around Neil and headed for the door. Without another word he left.

When Neil stood under the shower later, scrubbing his hands raw, he thought how wrong he had been. The night where Gorilla had been eaten alive only a few meters beneath him, while he had sat there almost freezing to death, had not been the worst few hours of his life.

Tonight, finding Andrew like that, and cutting a man into pieces like his father would have done, had been much more horrifying. But the worst was Andrew’s reaction to everything that had been done to him. How much Luther’s betrayal had probably destroyed Andrew, Neil couldn’t even fathom.

But the anger in his gut was real and there, and he clung to it. Savored it. Directed it at the people who were still there to hurt. Luther, Cass, who he had never met but already hated with such ferocity, and the Capitol. For making everything worse. What did he care if districts were uprising? The Moriyamas should be powerful enough to keep that under control. Instead they came to Neil and threatened him and Andrew. Without them, none of this would have happened today. He wanted them all to burn, burn while screaming for mercy he wouldn’t give them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was horrible. Let's never do it again.  
> When I'm done with this fic I'm going to write simple and soft Andreil stuff.


	13. The Spark

When Neil opened his eyes, it was early afternoon. He had spent the night alternating between nightmares and lying awake while reliving the grief he had felt when his mother had died. This pain and guilt, those memories made sense to him. That aching loss was all he knew and understood. If he lost sight of that all he had was the unfamiliar cruelty he had witnessed last night. He didn’t know how to face that yet. He didn’t know how to live with Andrew’s reaction to it. There was so much more Neil didn’t know about him.

Andrew knew almost everything about Neil, and he hadn’t even bat an eye at his truths. He accepted them, even understood them. He had helped Neil deal with them.

Neil thought about Andrew’s refusal to sleep with him and Robin around. What it meant for him to lock the door every time he slept at Neil’s house. How he pressed his back to the wall so no one could ever surprise him from behind. Neil’s blazing anger from the shower earlier had burned down to embers. He still wanted everyone dead. Revenge for something Andrew didn’t even care about. How should he do that? He couldn’t even face his father, let alone the Moriyamas.

When Neil got up and made his way to the dining car, the silence in the train was telling. No one was there, except for Wymack who was nursing a cup of black coffee. He looked up upon Neil’s entrance, and Neil saw his bloodshot eyes and the stubble covering his face. Apparently his night had been as restful as Neil’s.

Neil poured himself some coffee and decided to force some dry toast down. Wymack watched him for a second, then said, “Neil.”  
Neil knew that tone in combination with the serious expression on Wymack’s face.  
“I’m fine,” he said, without even looking up from where he was picking the toast apart.

Wymack sighed. “Today you’re on your own.”  
Neil paused. Of course, the Harvest Festival in District 12. That included a dinner at the mayor’s house tonight and a victory rally in the square during the Harvest Festival tomorrow. Neil was absolutely certain he couldn’t do it.

“Don’t worry, the rally tomorrow is canceled since Andrew… fell down a flight of stairs, and it wouldn’t be right for you to do it alone.” The relief must be written all over his face as Wymack gave him an understanding nod.  
Neil gave up on the toast and asked hesitantly, “Where are the others?”

“Right, you slept through the spectacle,” Wymack said. “Nicky tried to hug Andrew and almost got killed in the process. Andrew went off with Renee afterwards. Allison is with Nicky and Roland, and Aaron… well, I’m not sure about him.”  
Neil bet in all his years as a mentor, Wymack had never had such drama. Then again, he had had only one other victor. And she was determined to solve other people’s problems and not cause them.

Once they arrived in District 12, they were only briefly at the train station. And for a change without any cameras following them. Two cars were awaiting them, in one sat Betsy Dobson, waving at Andrew who gave Renee a bored look. It was probably on her that Betsy was here.  
Andrew and a stiff looking Aaron got into the car while the others stayed with Neil. They were brought straight to the mayor’s house to be prepared. This time without the twins, though.

When they reached the mayor’s house, Abby and Katelyn were already waiting. There was a lot of hugging which Neil neatly avoided and soon Roland led him to a room to dress him.

“Do you know?” Neil asked him after a few minutes of silence.  
“I know,” Roland confirmed, mouth set in a hard line. He compared two shirts before discarding both. He looked over Neil’s shoulder and their eyes met in the mirror.

“I know how he is,” Roland said. “And I’m glad he has you. At least someone’s allowed to look out for him.”  
Neil huffed. “Yeah, right. I’m sure he wouldn’t even allow me to hold his innards in if they were falling out.”  
Roland chose a shirt and looked back up in the mirror. “You have quite a few talents there, Neil. But reading people isn’t one of them.”

Opening his mouth to protest – reading people was essential to survive on the run – Roland interrupted him by tossing him his outfit for the evening and left to get dressed himself.

Neil still had an hour to kill before dinner, so he decided to wander through the house a little bit. It wasn’t as outrageously big as Luther’s residence in District 4, but still bigger than Neil’s new house in the Victor’s Village.

His steps were swallowed by a thick green carpet that covered the floor in every hall. He got a few glimpses in the other rooms through open doors, and lingered a little longer to look around in the mayor’s study.

The television was droning on, and Neil stopped to watch shots of Andrew and him at the Capitol party last night. They were sitting in their private corner, heads stuck together as Andrew showed him different pastries and Neil had to guess on the color alone how they would taste. He had been wrong every single time. Neil wanted to take the television and bash it repeatedly against the wall.

He was leaving the room when a beeping noise caught his attention. He turned back to see the screen of the television turn black. Then the words “UPDATE ON DISTRICT 8” started flashing. Neil knew instantly this was not for his eyes but something intended only for the mayor. He should go. Quickly. Instead he found he didn’t care what he was supposed to do and was stepping closer to the television.

An announcer Neil had never seen before appeared. It was a woman with graying hair and a hoarse, authoritative voice. She warned that conditions were worsening and a Level 3 alert had been called. Additional forces were being sent into District 8, and all textile production had ceased.

They cut away from the woman to the main square in District 8. Neil recognized it, not only because he had been there only last week, but also because he had spent almost a year there. The last year with his mother.

The square was packed with screaming people, their faces hidden with rags and home-made masks, throwing bricks. Buildings burned. Peacekeepers shot into the crowd, killing at random. And in the middle of it was a dirty white scrap of cloth, hoisted by the people like a flag. Neil’s bright orange fox paw was painted on it, held up by the people like a demand. Like a challenge.

Neil had never seen anything like it, but he could only be witnessing one thing. This was what Ichirou Moriyama called an uprising.

 

The clock over the fireplace in Neil’s living room was ticking loudly into their silence. It was cold, Neil hadn’t bothered with starting a fire, and Betsy didn’t ask for one.  
She sat there with her hot cocoa and a warm coat, watching Neil patiently, a calm smile on her lips. Over two weeks had passed since Andrew’s attack and the supposed uprising Neil had seen on television. His first reaction had been to find Andrew and tell him. His second thought had been to go to his shack, get his backpack, climb the fence and start running.

Eventually, he had settled for his third option. To not think or speak about it. District 8 was not his problem, and his father would invade it soon enough. But the spark in him, the one that had caught fire after he had cut Drake’s body into several pieces, the anger he felt in behalf of Andrew, had been excited. He wanted the Capitol to burn, the president’s mansion, Luther’s house. Everything.

In the last two weeks he had managed to avoid Betsy completely. Neil knew she had been looking for him, wanting to _talk_. Now that she had found him, he could practically hear Andrew mocking him for running and failing at it. He couldn’t be sure, though. They had barely spoken to each other since their return and when Neil came home from a hunting trip, his house was empty. He still found bread from time to time, but their interaction had dwindled to a glance in passing.

“How are you, Neil?” Betsy asked him conversationally, taking a sip from her mug. Neil thought about not answering at all, but settled for a curt, “I’m fine.”  
“That’s good. David told me you’ve been quite busy the last two weeks. Anything interesting?” Apparently his attempts at avoiding everyone had not gone by unnoticed.

Neil crossed his arms. “Look, you don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to be here. There’s no reason for us to talk. And if you feel any obligation towards Wymack or Abby, we can just tell them what a great chat we had, okay?” He wasn’t interested in her poking around in his head and possibly finding something he’d like to keep hidden.

“Oh, but I really want to be here. I’m sorry if I am bothering you, but David was not the only one who wanted me to check on you. They are worried you are isolating yourself over the incident with Andrew. Have you talked to him ever since?”

Neil bit his lip. Who else was so invested in his business? Instead of answering, he posed a counter question, “Why did you tell Andrew he should talk to me about Drake? And Cass?” He wasn’t sure if she knew the whole story with Aaron. But he had a feeling she did. Andrew trusted her for some unimaginable reason.

She tilted her head and pushed her glasses back up as they had a habit of sliding down. “I didn’t tell Andrew he should talk specifically to you. I just suggested that he might want to talk to someone else besides me. Maybe his brother.”

The implication of what she had just said hit Neil quite unprepared. He stared at her, mind racing. Why would Andrew do that? Maybe because he knew all of Neil’s secrets and could be sure Neil would never spill anything, even if he wanted to? They had a hold on each other, something akin to mutual destruction.

“It’s good he has a friend like you,” Betsy said. This again. She was as delusional as Roland.  
“We’re not friends.” And after a moment he added, “He doesn’t care about stuff like that. Or about anything.” Neil wanted to see her reaction to that. For her to try to explain why Andrew was like he was. To fail, and to give up on it.

“Does it bother you? Him not caring about you?” she asked instead.  
“He cared enough to save me multiple times. He doesn’t care about himself,” Neil retorted, some of his temper’s heat creeping into his voice. He tried to stamp it out.

Now, Betsy smiled for real. Not just the gentle curve of her lips. “And you want him to care. And until he does you’ll have to watch his back, right?”  
Neil didn’t like that she had put his thoughts into words. That she had seen right through him with nothing but a hot cocoa and few well placed questions. His eyes darted to the clock over the fireplace. “I have to go.” That was not a complete lie, he wanted to bring Rena and Coach Hernandez the vegetables he never ate but Abby always bought for him.

Betsy stood up, not offering her hand but a happy smile again. “I hope we can repeat this some time, Neil.” Neil would make sure to never be alone with her ever again. “Maybe.”  
She left through the front door and took the five second journey to her own home, diagonally across from Neil.

Neil returned inside, stuffed a bag with the vegetables and an empty box Rena would fill with cookies, which in turn Neil would give Andrew, Renee and Abby.

He closed the door and was just heading towards the village’s gate when he heard Renee calling out to him. “Neil! Wait for me!”  
She caught up to him in no time, cheeks flushed from the cold under her white fleecy hat.  
“Are you going into town? I need to get a few things, so I thought I could accompany you. If that’s alright?”

Neil was actually not in the mood for company, all the more after the talk with Betsy. But he only shrugged and they fell in a leisurely pace next to each other. Neil noticed how Renee slowed down for him, she was practically floating over the frozen snow, while Neil struggled doing one step after another. And then he realized why that was.

“Must be weird, being around snow every year,” he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She smiled at that. “Is it weird for you to be in the woods almost every day?”  
“Yes,” Neil said without hesitation.  
“I got used to it after ten years. Eleven now.”

Renee’s arena had been a snow-covered tundra with almost no hiding possibilities. A third of the tributes had died of hunger, or of exposure. The others had found their end through Renee’s hand or through another girl from District 7.

After they were walking for a few minutes in silence, Renee asked, “You’ve never asked me about my Games. How come?”  
“I saw them,” Neil said. Only bits and pieces as his father didn’t allow for such distractions in his house.

Renee hummed. “I know I’m making you uncomfortable. You’re probably still seeing the girl from ten years ago while everyone else has collectively forgotten about her. I don’t mind if you want to know what has changed.”

Neil stared at the dirty gray snow in front of him. The coal turned everything ugly here.  
He had to admit, he was curious. Renee was a conundrum to him. He understood how Andrew had felt about him at the beginning of their journey so many months ago.  
She prayed to a long forgotten god and went through the district to hand out food to those who suffered the most. But she was also the woman who had helped Neil cut up a dead body. And he was fairly certain if she had been there, she would have slit Drake open from groin to neck.

“Fine. What did change for you after the Games?” Renee laughed at his brusque tone. “Well, that’s easy enough. Stephanie changed.” Renee’s adoptive mother. Neil had somehow assumed she had adopted Renee even before the Games, but apparently not.

At Neil’s questioning frown, she elaborated, “I lived in the orphanage here. It’s not a place any child should grow up. At least not when I was there.” That explained Renee’s investment into the orphanage in the town. As far as Neil knew, Renee and Coach Hernandez were taking good care of it.

“I associated with bad people. One of them took quite the special interest in me, he liked to hurt me. With knives.” Neil tried to suppress his shivering with no success. “The first rule I learned was that no one would come to your rescue. You had to make it on your own,” Renee said. Neil thought about his mother and how he had never been on his own until last year.

Renee stroked over her left underarm as she continued, “I bested him eventually. I learned how to fight with a knife and killed him. People die here all the time, so no one suspected anything. Then I was drawn in the Reaping, but nothing really changed for me. Except if I’d survive this time I would be rich.

“Thankfully, Stephanie and Wymack found me before I could do anything stupid with all the money and no sense in living. I found God, too. But I’m sure you’re not interested in that.” She smiled, not offended at all.

Neil didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t understand her. How someone could change this drastically was beyond him. And to be quite honest, he didn’t trust it, either.  
Renee seemed to sense some of his thoughts, as she continued with some easier chit-chat. “Did you know people thought Andrew and I were a couple a few years ago?” She sounded amused about it. Neil tilted his head. “I can see why,” he said, contemplative. There was some kind of familiarity between them that could be easily seen as romantic intimacy.

Renee laughed. “Andrew bet with me you would say that. Guess I have to buy him his sweets now.”  
Neil frowned. “What?”  
“He said you were stupid and need things spelled out. His words, not mine,” she said, hands held up defensively. Great, now Andrew was even insulting him through other people.  
Annoyed, Neil asked, “What do you mean?”  
“He also said you would ask me that. I guess it’s okay to tell you since he never told me not to.”

Neil looked at her confused. He really had no idea what the point of this conversation was.  
Renee smiled at him. “He’s not interested in women. And I’m not interested in men. Quite simple, don’t you think?”

“Oh.” Neil blinked at her in confusion, blinked again when it clicked, and said a little too loudly, “Then you and Allison—”  
Renee laughed again. “Yes, me and Allison.”  
“Okay,” Neil said and they resumed to walk in silence side by side. In hindsight, Renee’s sexuality wasn’t that big of a surprise. She and Allison were always touching or sticking together one way or another. Andrew on the other side… Neil wasn’t sure.

Maybe it was surprising, but only because he had never thought about Andrew with anyone in that kind of context. As long as Neil knew him, he had never _been_ with anyone. Most of the last few months they had spent together and Neil had never seen Andrew actually interacting with any men besides himself and Roland.

And why hadn’t he told Neil? He had more or less allowed Renee to out him, why not just do it himself? Probably because Neil had never asked. What a weird conversation that would have been. Neil never thought much about his own sexuality, there wasn’t even much to think about to begin with, and he didn’t really care about any of the others to ask.

When they had almost reached the square, Renee raised her head. “What’s that?” she asked, brows knitted.  
Neil lifted his chin. He’d been so consumed with his own thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the strange noise coming from the square. A whistling, the sound of an impact, the intake of breath from a crowd.

“Come on,” Renee said, her face suddenly hard. Neil didn’t know why. He couldn’t place the sound, even guess the situation. But it meant something bad to her.

When they reached the square, it was clear something was happening, but the crowd was too thick to see. Renee stepped up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and scooted over to make place for Neil. She scanned the crowd, and when Neil was halfway up she suddenly blocked his way.

“Get down. Wait here.” She was whispering, but her voice was sharp with urgency.  
“What?” Neil said, forcing his way up anyway. She stopped him, shaking her head. “No, you need to go.”

Whatever it was, it was terrible. Neil turned around and pushed through the crowd. He had to squeeze and elbow his way to get past the mostly taller people, and when he finally broke through to the cleared space, Neil saw he was right. And Renee had been right, too.

Coach Hernadez’s wrists were bound to a wooden post. His jacket had been cast aside on the ground, his shirt torn away. He slumped unconscious on his knees, held up only by the ropes on his wrists. What used to be his back was a raw, bloody slab of meat.

Standing behind him was a tall, muscular man Neil couldn’t identify as his back was turned towards the crowd. But Neil recognized the uniform. It was the one designated for the Head Peacekeeper. He also saw the blood on the white armor, fine speckles covering it. Neil didn’t quite understand until he saw the man raising his arm with the whip.

Neil didn’t know what he was doing until he was already springing forward. It was too late to stop the arm from descending, and Neil instinctively knew he wouldn’t have the power to block it. Instead he threw himself directly between the whip and Coach Hernandez.

He had flung out his arms to protect as much of the coach’s broken body as possible, so there was nothing to deflect the lash. Neil took the full force of it across the right side of his face.

The pain was blinding and instantaneous. Jagged flashes of light crossed his vision and he fell to his knees. One hand cupped his cheek while the other kept him from tipping over. Neil could already feel the welt rising up, the swelling closing his eye. The stones beneath him were wet with Coach Hernandez’s blood, the air heavy with its scent.

Neil wanted to say something, to defend the man who had been nothing but kind and patient with him. But when he got a glimpse of his assailant’s face, Neil’s chest clenched tight and there was no room for talking or even breathing.

Jackson Plank hadn’t changed one bit in eight years. His face had never quite fit his personality, it was that of a young man, grinning and carefree. When Neil had been younger he had slipped him sweets with a wink. “Don’t tell your mom,” he had said and ruffled Neil’s hair. He was a completely different person at work.

His dark hair was shaved almost to non-existence, the gray eyes hard and cold. He wasn’t grinning now. Jackson’s powerful arm lifted again, his sights set on Neil. Neil could only stare, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. His father, his father would be here soon. Jackson had recognized him for sure, there was no way he hadn’t! He couldn’t even lift his arm to protect his face from the next leash.

“Hold it!” a voice barked. Wymack appeared, hands held up to show he was unarmed. He stopped in front of Neil, shielding him from Jackson’s sight as much as possible. Unimpressed, Jackson went for his gun and leveled it at Neil. “Move,” he said.

Wymack glanced to Neil who was desperately trying not to hyperventilate while still holding his cheek. “You don’t want to shoot him.”

“How about I shoot both of you?” Jackson said and lifted his gun to Wymack’s head. “No, commander,” Wymack started, voice calm and reassuring, “you’re new here. Trust me, I’m trying to help you.” He took a step back, pointing to his chest. “My name’s David Wymack. Don’t you recognize him?”

Neil wanted to throw up. Now Wymack was even drawing more attention to him, making sure Jackson would definitely place his face to the Butcher. Neil saw the flicker of recognition in the eyes of Jackson, and felt the fear icing the blood in his veins. Wymack who didn’t know any better continued, “Neil Josten, darling of the Capitol?”

Jackson examined Neil, then lowered the gun. “He interfered with a Peacekeeper.”  
Wymack nodded, “I never said he was smart.” He took another step back, closer to Neil. “Look, you already got a couple of lashes in, right?” Before he could say anything more, Jackson’s voiced cut in, loud and booming, and he was raising his gun again. “This is not good enough! He’s an agitator!”

He yanked the gun around when Renee slowly came closer, smile gone and eyes trained on every movement Jackson was doing. Wymack pulled her by her shoulder behind him and she kneeled down next to Neil. Neil didn’t even feel her touch on his cheek, eyes still fixated on Jackson who was looking like he was on the verge of killing them all.

Wymack realized that too, since he dropped the composed act and let impatience seep into his voice. “Are you sure President Moriyama wants three dead victors here? Because that’s what we’re looking at. It’s bad enough that you marked up his face before an important photo shoot,” there was no photo shoot, but no one knew that, “so let it go. And we will, too.”

There was a tense silence as Jackson and Wymack both regarded each other. Jackson glanced over at his back-up squad. Neil couldn’t see any more familiar faces, but he knew they were Butcher’s men. The way they stood, the look in their eyes. All approved men and women of his father. With a humorless smile, Jackson put the gun away. “All right,” he said, and took a step towards Wymack. They were on eye level when Jackson said, “But next time, it’s the firing squad.”

“Excellent idea,” said Wymack, not even budging a little bit. Jackson was so far into his personal space now, they had to breathe the same air. “I don’t care who he is,” he said, eyes boring into Wymack’s. Then he suddenly shouted, right in Wymack’s face, “Clear the square!” He turned around, addressing the crowd in his booming voice.

“You are all under curfew. Anyone out after dark will be shot on sight!” Then, he came back to Wymack, looked him straight in the eyes and said in a normal volume, “Get them out of here.”

Jackson wiped his hand along the length of the whip, splattering them with blood. Then he coiled it into quick, neat loops and walked off.  
Neil couldn’t tear his eyes away from him. Why didn’t he take him? Why hadn’t he laughed when he had recognized him, delighted that he would bring his boss his biggest gift yet.

Renee helped him to stand up and Wymack shook his head. “For fuck’s sake, Neil. What were you thinking? Be glad we don’t need your face for another few months, your own mother wouldn’t recognize you like this.”

Neil touched his cheek, where the blood had been frozen to his skin. “Coach Hernandez,” he remembered and turned around. Numb from the shock of his father’s men being here and relieved to remain undetected for now, Neil’s hands fumbled at the knots binding the coach’s wrists. Someone passed Renee a knife and she cut the ropes.

“Better get him to Abby,” said Wymack. By the time they laid Coach Hernandez face down on a board, only a handful people were left to carry him. The square had emptied quickly, fear had gotten the better of compassion. And Neil couldn’t blame anyone, he didn’t want to be involved either.

“I’ll get Rena,” Renee said to Neil. He only nodded, not trusting his voice right now. “Get some snow on that,” she told him before spinning around and heading in the direction of the Hernandez house.

Neil scooped up a handful of snow and pressed it against his cheek, numbing a bit of the pain. His right eye was tearing heavily now, and in the dimming light it was all he could do to follow the boots in front of him.

As they walked, he could hear two of the men that were helping carry the board, talking about what had happened. This morning heavily armored cars had driven on the square with new Peacekeepers and their commander Jackson Plank. No one knew what had happened to their old Head Peacekeeper, but Plank had taken over. They had burned down the Hob, had broken into houses to look for illegally purchased goods and had arrested countless people.

They had beaten them and that was when Coach Hernandez had stepped in which ultimately had brought him into the position of being tied to a post and being whipped.

Snow began, thick and wet, making visibility even more difficult. Neil stumbled up the walk to Wymack’s house behind the others, using his ears more than his eyes to guide him. A golden light colored the snow as the door opened. Abby, who had been no doubt waiting for them with dinner, took in the scene.

“New Head,” Wymack said, and she gave him a curt nod as if no other explanation was needed. She turned to Betsy, “Get Aaron. Also Katelyn if possible.” In a matter of seconds she transformed from the soft spoken woman that never got tired of inviting Neil for dinner, or had to call Wymack to kill a spider, to a woman immune to fear.

In moments, the long kitchen table had been cleared, a sterile white cloth spread across it, and Coach Hernandez hoisted on it. Abby was just pouring water from a kettle into a basin, when Aaron bolted through the door. Nicky was right behind him, and Andrew followed a lot less urgently.  
Abby ordered Aaron to pull a series of remedies from the medicine cabinet. Dried herbs and tinctures and store-bought bottles. She glanced Neil’s way. “Aaron, take a look at his eye.”

It was Andrew, though, who seized his chin and turned Neil’s head to get a better look. His face was expressionless as ever, but he pointed a warning finger at his brother when he came closer. Eyes narrowed, Aaron glared at him, but gave up rather quickly.

“Did it cut your eye?” he addressed Neil instead.  
“No, only skin and it’s swelled shut,” Neil said.  
“Get more snow on it,” he instructed. But Neil was clearly not a priority. He rushed back to Abby’s side and helped her clean the blood from Coach Hernandez’s back to get a better view of the wounds.

“Who did this?” Andrew asked. He shoved a bowl with snow in Neil’s hands and watched him attentively, probably waiting for a lie.  
“The new Head Peacekeeper seems very dedicated to his job,” Wymack said from where he was handing utensils to Abby and Aaron.  
Neil’s heart was beating so hard he was sure Andrew could hear it just from standing next to him. He swallowed, then said, “He’s a Butcher’s man.”

For a second, everyone stared at him. Eyes wide and mouths gaping in shock. “Impossible,” someone said. “The Butcher doesn’t get involved until a district is on the verge of rioting,” another voice said. Neil thought about people on the streets, screaming and burning Capitol emblems. He thought about the fox paw hoisted up like a symbol of resistance.

“How do you know?” Wymack asked then. Years of practicing made the lie roll easily from Neil’s tongue. “I saw him once, in 8.” Andrew’s grip tightening on his shoulder to let Neil know that not everyone believed him. The others, however, resumed to their task and started to talk among each other for the reasons of the Butcher’s involvement. Talks of rebellion would quiet down very fast with the news spreading.

Betsy returned with Katelyn, and Renee with Rena. Everyone else said their goodbyes. Neil wanted to leave as well, but Betsy caught up on him at the door. “You can stay here, Neil. This is not a time you should be alone.”  
Before Neil could decline the offer, Andrew said from behind him, “I’ll go with him.”

Betsy smiled at that, and nodded approvingly, whereas Neil didn’t like the idea any more than her offer. But it was better than staying with a pale looking Rena and Betsy who always looked so _encouraging_ at him.

Additional to the heavy falling snow, the wind had picked up speed as well and it was difficult even finding the right house. This could soon turn into a full blown blizzard. Neil unlocked the door and nothing but cold and darkness awaited them.

Andrew walked right up to the fireplace and piled up the wood to start a fire. Then he turned on the heat for the upstairs rooms. He eyed Neil for a second, before saying, “Clean that up.”  
Too tired to argue, Neil dragged himself upstairs and took a quick, boiling hot shower. He still couldn’t see with his swollen eye, and it was a tedious task to find anything in the bathroom.

When he came back downstairs, he wore the hideous orange-green, but extremely soft and warm, sweater that Andrew had forgotten a few weeks ago. It was several sizes too big, on both of them, but that was what made it so comfortable.

He found Andrew in the kitchen. Without looking up, Andrew pointed to the kitchen sink where a large bowl with snow stood. On closer examination Neil saw that it was tinted a light green and gave off a sweet, clean scent. “Renee dropped that off for you. Put in on your cheek.” Andrew was stirring a cup of what seemed to be hot chocolate, completely fixated on the task at hand.

“What is that?” Neil asked warily. Andrew stopped and glanced up at him. For a second Neil was sure he saw some sort of hesitation in his eyes, but it was quickly gone, as Andrew asked dryly, “Don’t you have your own clothes?”  
Neil looked down and brushed over the soft front of the sweater. “Don’t leave your stuff lying around then,” he said with a shrug. “What is this?”

Andrew stared at him a little longer. “It’s snow coat,” he said eventually. With the cup of hot chocolate in one hand he came over to Neil and grabbed a handkerchief in passing. He filled it with the snow-coat mixture and held it to the weal on Neil’s cheek. Instantly the pain withdrew. It was the coldness of the snow, yes, but whatever mix of herbal juices Abby had added numbed as well. Neil’s lips formed a surprised “oh”, and he took the handkerchief from Andrew’s hand.

With the hot chocolate Andrew left the kitchen and Neil simply followed, unsure what else to do. They sat down on the sofa in front of the fireplace where Neil and Betsy had only been talking a few hours ago. Ages seemed to have passed since then.  
“Does your stupidity know any limits?” Andrew asked after a while. Of course he would come up with that now. “What do you care?” said Neil, not masking his annoyance. “You don’t seem to care about anything else.”

“Is that what is troubling you, Neil? My inappropriate reaction to something that has happened to _me_? I don’t feel anything, so don’t bother with getting angry on my behalf. I really don’t care.”

Neil swallowed down the urge to grab Andrew’s shoulders and shake him. He had to look away, but not for long. “I hate this,” he simply said. Fingers buried in the fabric of his sweater and eyes set on Andrew. “And I hate you,” Andrew said casually, “Good talk. Now tell me why you lied to Coach earlier.”

The abrupt change of topic threw Neil off for a second. Since it was pointless to lie to Andrew, Neil said, “I can’t tell you that.” He was still not ready to talk about his father, the reactions of the others had only strengthened that resolve. No one would see him the same way, once they knew. Andrew most likely wouldn’t care, but this was something he had to tell everyone sooner or later. They all were already in danger just because of Neil, and once Jackson found out who Neil really was, his father would not hesitate and burn the whole district down.

“Fine. Let’s leave it. For now,” Andrew promised him.  
“It’s not your problem,” said Neil, crossing his arms over his chest. “For someone not caring you like getting involved quite a lot.”  
“That’s because you’re a problem. Everything about you is a problem,” Andrew replied, voice bored, but something flickered across his face. Maybe it was only the light from the fire, Neil wasn’t sure.

“What does that even mean?” he asked. Andrew took a sip from his chocolate, ignoring the question. For a while they sat in silence, Neil staring into the fire and getting sleepy. At least, his body was finally giving in to the fatigue, but his mind was still on high alert and he already dreaded falling asleep, afraid of what his subconscious would dig up tonight.

He blinked, when Andrew stood up and crouched before the fire. When he returned to the couch he held a lit cigarette and blew the smoke straight in Neil’s face. Neil breathed in the familiar smell, trying to find the calm that usually came with it. They remained like that, Andrew standing in front of him and Neil resting his head against the backrest of the sofa.

“Bee likes you, did you know? She has a thing for the hopeless cases,” Andrew said unexpectedly. When Neil said nothing, he added, “She also knows you don’t like her. Your distrust for everyone seeing through your little lies is really telling.”

“Renee told me about you,” Neil blurted out. He didn’t know why he brought it up, the words simply fell from his mouth. Andrew only raised a single eyebrow. “That she had to tell you makes me assume I just won a bet.”  
“Does Aaron know?” Growing up with Luther and his sister as a mother explained his often hurtful comments about Nicky and his relationship to Erik. Neil couldn’t imagine he knew about his own brother.

Andrew blew another round of smoke in Neil’s face. “No, but Bee wants me to tell him. As if it’s any of his business.” At Neil’s blank expression he said, “She wants us to talk and work out our so-called problems. You know, after he killed Drake and everything she thought it was past time.”

Unsure how to react to that, Neil only blinked. “Uh, that’s cool. I guess.”  
“Is it, though? He took it quite personally that I killed his mother.”

That should probably shock Neil, or at least surprise him. But as it was, it was a pretty obvious thing for Andrew to do. Neil remembered how his first reaction to the death of Neil’s parents was to ask whether Neil had killed them.

“You did it because you promised to protect him. Why would he hold it against you?” Neil asked after some consideration.  
“Surprisingly not everyone is like you and me,” Andrew answered him, throwing the finished cigarette in the fire. Whatever he meant by that, Neil didn’t ask.

Neither of them went to bed that night, they stayed in the living room, sleeping together in the same room for the very first time since their return from the arena. Neil still woke from nightmares, but Andrew was still there, sitting on the other side of the couch and watching the flames die before adding more wood. And Neil fell asleep again to the image of the flames growing stronger behind his closed eyes.

 

The next few weeks passed with several unpleasant surprises. The first was the transformation of the town square. A huge banner with the seal of Panem hung off the roof of the Justice Building. Peacekeepers, in pristine white uniforms and obviously the Butcher’s men, marched on the cleanly swept cobblestones. Along the rooftops, more of them occupied nests of machine guns. Most unnerving was a line of new constructions – an official whipping post, several stockades and gallows – set up in the center of the square.

After Neil had seen that, he told Andrew what he had seen on the mayor’s television. They went to Wymack, and eventually it also reached Aaron, Nicky, Abby and Betsy. They had to be careful where and what they were talking about. Nothing seemed to be safe anymore, except maybe for the woods. Which led to another ugly revelation. The fence was working again.

One morning Neil tried to take his usual route and stopped when he heard the low hum that signaled there was electrical current running through the chain link. The next few days showed no change and Neil had to accept it would stay that way.

His birthday passed without anyone noticing. And the following month brought a wave of sick and starving people to Abby’s doorstep. Aaron made no secret out of his opinion whose fault that was. There were food shortages, and even those with money came away from stores empty-handed. Wages were cut, hours extended, miners sent into blatantly dangerous work sites.

The installations in the square saw plenty of action as people were dragged in and punished for offences that had been so long overlooked, everyone had forgotten they were illegal. Neil stayed well away from it at Wymack’s and Andrew’s instructions. He wasn’t interested in going there anyway.

The only bright spot was, Coach Hernandez recovered under Abby’s care rapidly. Rena spent a lot of time at Wymack’s during that time and bullied Neil into cooking with her.

When Neil talked to Allison on the phone one afternoon, something she said caught his attention. It was only a passing remark, about how she couldn’t get prawns for a party, but it tugged at him.

“Why couldn’t you get prawns? Are they out of season?” he asked. Allison paused at that, and Neil realized she had dropped that comment deliberately. She wanted him to know. When she resumed talking, she sounded as flippant as ever, though. “Oh, Neil, we haven’t been able to get any seafood for weeks!” she said. “You know, because the weather’s been so bad in District 4.”

Neil’s mind started buzzing. No seafood. For weeks. From District 4. He hadn’t just imagined Allison’s mocking tone, had he? And suddenly he was certain that District 4 had revolted.  
Casually, Allison started to complain about the difficulty of getting other products – from crabmeat to music chips to ribbons – Neil slowly got a sense of which districts might be rebelling. Seafood from 4. Electronic gadgets from 3. And, of course, fabrics from 8.

Andrew’s only reaction to that was a dismissive gesture with his hand and a bored, “Luther better survive this.” After all, he had made him a promise. Neil on the other hand couldn’t help but hope Luther was being dragged through the streets this very moment and lynched by an angry mob. It wouldn’t be enough, never in Neil’s opinion, but a start.  
To Nicky no one said anything. Erik’s fate was uncertain and they couldn’t do much to help him anyway.

He didn’t meet Jackson after the whipping again. No surprise, his father would need him with two other districts rioting besides 8. Andrew spent more nights with Neil at home, to make sure Neil wouldn’t leave the house after dark and get himself killed. He had to go running by day now and after a nightmare he simply sat down in the living room, waiting for Andrew to join him.

Outside, the air got warm with hopeful hints of spring in it. It was in the middle of March when they were notified that there would be an obligatory announcement from the Capitol in the evening. Andrew would be all day in the bakery, so Neil decided to drop by. He took a few of Rena’s cookies with him and some meat for the baker. Since he couldn’t hunt anymore, he made it a habit to share his purchases with Rena and Coach Hernandez, and the baker who had always been fair in doing business with Neil.

He greeted Neil from behind the counter and immediately pointed to the back of the shop. “He’s taking his break. Do me a favor and get him back to work.” For some reason everyone thought Neil could make Andrew do anything. The baker laughed at the small portion of meat, it was more than most had these days. In return he gave Neil a fresh cinnamon bun, and Neil headed through the backdoor to where Andrew was smoking. He swapped Andrew’s cigarette for the cinnamon bun and took a drag while Andrew ripped the bun into small pieces.

“I’ll watch the announcement from here. Go to Abby,” he said. Neil nodded. He could also just watch it alone, but lately he spent more time with Nicky (and therefore with Aaron and Katelyn) at Wymack’s place.

 

When they gathered around the television at seven-thirty, no one was really excited about what Riko Moriyama had to say. It was tradition to announce what the Gamemakers had planned for the Anniversary Year Reaping a few months ahead of the actual Reaping.

And soon enough Kathy Ferdinand introduced him and Kevin, delighted about her dream duo being back together. The audience loved them and there was some banter in which Kevin looked obviously uncomfortable, which no one seemed to notice, or care.

Then the anthem played, and Neil’s throat tightened with revulsion as Riko smiled straight into the camera. A young boy, dressed in a black suit, took the stage, holding a simple wooden box. The anthem ended, and Riko began to speak about what had happened in the previous Anniversary Year.

“On the thirtieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes.”

Neil imagined facing a field of forty seven instead of twenty-three. Worse odds, less hope, and ultimately more dead kids. The year Matt Boyd had won.

“And now in honor of our seventh Anniversary Year,” Riko started, as the little boy in black stepped forward, holding out the box and opened the lid. Inside laid a single, crème-white card. Riko took it out, smiling again in the camera. It almost felt like he was directly smiling at Neil. Without hesitation, he read, “On the thirty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, one tribute will be hand-picked by the president himself and the other will be reaped by chance, both from the existing pool of victors.”

Abby gave a faint shriek and Nicky buried his face in his hands, but Neil felt more like the people he saw in the crowd on television. Slightly baffled. What did that mean? Hand-picked? Existing pool of victors?

Then he got it, what it meant. District 12 only had four existing victors to choose from. And only one had enraged the Capitol enough to be worthy of being hand-picked by Kengo Moriyama.

He was going back into the arena.

 

Neil’s body reacted before his mind did and he was running out of the door, across the lawns of the Victor’s Village, into the dark beyond. Moisture from the sodden ground soaked his socks and he was aware of the sharp bite of the wind, but he didn’t stop. Where? Where to go? The woods, of course. He had to leave, to run away. He could never go back.

He was at the fence before the hum made him remember how very trapped he was. He backed away, panting, turned on his heel and took off again.

The next thing Neil knew he was on his hands and knees in his shack. He pulled the old backpack out from under the bed, and started to methodically spread its contents out on the floor, only to pack it back in again. He did that a few more times under the poor light of the moon. Somewhere in the dark the cats were watching him.

He was cold and wet and winded, but he couldn’t feel anything. Back in the arena. Neil had to admit he hadn’t seen that coming. He had seen a multitude of other things. Public humiliation, torture or execution. Andrew and everyone else dead, killed by his father. Maybe even fleeing again, through the wilderness, leaving everything that meant something to him behind. But never that he would have to be a player in the Games again.

His mind wandered back to Riko smiling in the camera. And Kevin, Kevin standing right beside him. Neil felt betrayed, but for betrayal there had to be trust first. He was angry at himself for trusting Kevin. His words from the Capitol party sounded mocking now. He had to have known Neil would never return as a mentor to the Games. Ichirou had probably planned this from the get-go, getting rid of Neil and subduing the districts all in one neat little package.

“You’re such a drama queen,” Andrew said from behind him. Neil startled and hit his hand against a bedpost. Soft fabric hit him on the back of his head and when he pulled it down he saw it was his coat. Andrew sat down at the kitchen table and one of the cats jumped on it. They stared at each other for a while until the cat lost interest and jumped on Andrew’s lap, looking for some warmth. He shoved her down but she simply headed over to Neil who picked her up and held her against his chest as he stood up.

“How did you find me?” Neil asked, his voice rough.  
“You don’t have that many hiding spots.” Andrew pointed at the neatly packed backpack. “Are you done with your mental breakdown?”

Neil sat down at the table with Andrew and the other cat dared to come forward. He nudged against Neil’s leg and he picked him up as well. For some reason he felt better now, two cats on his lap and Andrew staring him down, unimpressed as ever.

“I’m going back in the arena,” he said eventually. Acknowledging didn’t make it any better, if anything he felt worse again. Andrew regarded him for a second. “So am I.”

“ _No!_ ” The word came out harsher than Neil intended it to be. Andrew remained unfazed. “Don’t tell me what to do. You wouldn’t survive a second alone.”

Now, Neil got actually angry. “You will not go back! No, don’t give me that look. You will not!” One of the cats meowed and Neil tried to calm down, but Andrew’s self-destructive streak would have to end here and now.

“Interesting. So you tell me either Renee or Wymack should die in my stead?”  
“I’m telling you I’m long past my time and all three of you will come back.” Neil’s heart was pounding in his chest, but he meant every word he said.  
“You and your martyr complex, Neil. It’s unwanted and also unnecessary. I’ll go.”

“I won’t let you. You don’t deserve this. No one does, but I won’t let you. Not for me, not for Renee, and not for Wymack.”

“I hate you so much,” Andrew’s reply came tonelessly.

“Yes, I know. And you want me dead ninety percent of the time. Riko and Kevin will take care of that now. Be happy.”

“It’s ninety-one percent, and you’re in no place to demand anything from me. Remember that you still owe me something for coming with you to 4’s ceremony?”

Neil did. And he bit his lip in anticipation. “Well, here is what you’re going to do. You’re going to stay alive, no matter who’s in the arena with you.” Andrew’s look was intent, no room for arguing.

“I can’t,” Neil said. “Not if it’s you.”  
“And I told you not to be so rash with your promises. Are you going to break this one?” He sounded as if he couldn’t care less. Neil thought about all the broken promises that had led to Andrew reaching this point of complete apathy, and found his resolve crumbling.

“Fine. But you won’t be going to the arena.”  
“We will see.”

They stood up, it was time to return and face the others. After all, Wymack and Renee were also affected. It was ridiculous, Neil couldn’t kill any of them.

“Get one of the cats, I want to take them back with me,” he said to Andrew before leaving. Andrew looked at him like Neil had lost his mind. “Carry them yourselves,” he said.  
Neil shrugged and managed to hold them both in his arms as Andrew opened the door.

Back in the village, Neil dropped off the cats and quickly changed into something dry. Together they headed back over to Wymack and Abby, where Abby took Neil immediately in her arms when she opened the door.

“Are you done being dramatic?” Aaron asked from behind her. Sometimes he and his brother were so similar to each other, Neil wanted to punch them both.  
“Aaron,” Abby said warningly, but he dismissed her with a simple eye-roll.

It was almost midnight, but everyone was still up. Renee sat between her mother and Betsy who both had an arm around her shoulder. Wymack stood with crossed arms next to the fireplace, staring into the flames. Nicky, Aaron and Katelyn had claimed the couch. Aaron deliberately did not look his brother’s way, but his face said more than he probably wanted to.

After a few moments of silence, Wymack spoke up. “It’s not certain yet that Neil has to go.” No one in the room actually believed that, but not even Aaron felt the need to point that out. “I will volunteer for the other one. No,” he said to Andrew, “I don’t want to hear anything. I’m tired of watching you kids die.”

“Whatever the outcome is,” Renee said, “three of us are coming home from the Capitol. Two mentors, one victor. I’ll ask Allison to send us recordings of all living victors. We’re going to watch their Games and learn everything we can about how they fight. We’re going to put on weight and get strong. We’re going to start acting like Careers.” Her eyes were determined, no smile on her lips.

“Oh, are you going to drop the good Samaritan act, then?” Andrew asked, fake surprise in his voice. Renee looked at him. “You know I will.”

What kept Neil awake that night wasn’t nightmares about the arena or the thought of killing Andrew, Wymack, or Renee. Even though he couldn’t remember when he had stopped caring for his own survival, and was ready to take a whiplash to his face for someone else.

He thought about Kevin, hell-bent on bringing him back from the arena the first time. He was annoying and pretentious, but he had trained Neil with dedication to ensure Neil’s survival. According to Riko he had no idea who Neil was, so there had to be another reason. A reason that was apparently invalid now.

Why had Kevin allowed this to happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see how much longer I can keep Neil clueless...  
> Also if you watched/read The Hunger Games you can probably guess why I let Neil take the cats home lmfao


	14. Pack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, watch me trying to explain a plot point I totally forgot about hahaha  
> And finally, a few new and old faces appear! Jean Moreau's attempt to make friends! Beautiful :)  
> (Thank you to my beautiful [beta](http://marbledmaven.tumblr.com/)!!!)

Every night they watched the old recaps of the Games that the remaining victors had won. Neil realized that while they had met a few of those victors before and after their own Games, they had never met any of them on the Victory Tour.

When he brought it up, Wymack said the last thing the Moriyamas wanted was to show him and Andrew bonding with other victors in potentially rebellious districts. Victors had a special status, and if they appeared to be supporting their defiance of the Capitol, it would’ve been dangerous politically.

Renee took copious notes, Wymack volunteered information about the victor’s personality, with some additions from Renee, and slowly they began to know their competition. Andrew seemed as unresponsive as ever to all of it, but sometimes he surprised them with facts he remembered seeing in the Games years ago.

Every morning Wymack forced them out of their beds to do exercises to strengthen their bodies. They ran – usually led by Neil and Renee – lifted things and stretched their muscles. Every afternoon they worked on their combat skills. Renee and Andrew kept their routine with sparring which Neil still refused to be part of. Wymack showed him a few tricks in hand to hand combat, until Renee asked Neil about his knife throwing.

He didn’t want to show them what Lola had taught him. But if he wanted to make sure one of them made it out of the arena alive, they needed everything they could get. To his relief no one asked how he had learned it.

Abby put Renee and Neil on a special diet to gain weight which Andrew and Betsy only laughed at while they ate their chocolate and Rena’s cookies. Aaron and Katelyn treated their sore muscles. Allison called and slipped some Capitol information, predictions on who would be victor of the victors. Apparently all four of them were currently Capitol favorites. Andrew and Neil were still fresh in memory and had delivered one of the most iconic Games in history. Renee was popular with everyone, and Wymack was the oldest living victor. He was some sort of legend, after Kayleigh Day and Tetsuji Moriyama.

“Do you think Kevin or Riko could be reaped as well?” Neil asked since they were both still victors.

“No, they’re no longer citizens of a district,” Wymack said. “Do you know why they put Moriyamas in the Games in the first place?”

Neil shook his head. “It’s to give the people some false sense of security. How could the president’s treatment be unfair if he puts his own flesh in blood in the same arena as commoners from the districts? Afterwards they’ll become Gamemakers, though, and live in the Capitol. Since Tetsuji adopted Kevin, he’s a technically a Moriyama, too.”

The night before the Reaping, Abby invited Coach Hernandez and Rena over for dinner. Since Neil didn’t plan on making it back alive a second time, he thought about saying something to them. He couldn’t find the right words, however, and postponed it for after the Reaping.

He actually had a lot to say to all of them. A thank-you to Rena and her husband for looking out for him, even though he hadn’t appreciated it at the time and still thought it unnecessary.

To Nicky, Abby, Wymack and Renee who he actual thought of as friends. To Betsy for looking out for Andrew. Even to Aaron who was still an asshole, but also a part of their team. And there were things he wanted to tell Andrew he couldn’t even form into actual thoughts.

He never got the chance, though.

The day of the Reaping was hot and sultry. The population of District 12 waited, sweating and silent, in the square with the machine guns trained on them. The four victors stood alone in a small roped-off area. The Reaping only took a minute. Allison, in a soft-orange colored dress, didn’t even try to pretend excitement anymore.

Two glass balls stood in front of her. In one was a single piece of paper with the name of the hand-picked tribute. The other contained three more.

She had to claw around the hand-picked reaping ball for quite a while to snag the small slip. To no one surprise it had Neil’s name on it.

Then she caught Wymack’s name. He barely had time to close his eyes before Andrew had volunteered to take his place. Even faster than Renee, who had her hand halfway up in the air to volunteer as well.

Andrew and Neil were immediately marched into the Justice Building to find Jackson Plank waiting for them. “New procedure,” he said with a cruel smile, barely sparing them a glance before walking ahead. They were ushered out of the back door, into a car, and taken to the train station. There were no cameras on the platform, no crowd to send them on their way.

Renee, Wymack and Allison appeared, escorted by guards. Peacekeepers hurried them all onto the train and slammed the door. The wheels started to turn.

And Neil was left staring out of the window, watching District 12 disappear, with all his goodbyes and thank-yous still hanging on his lips.

Neil remained at the window long after the woods had swallowed up the last glimpse of what had somehow become his home.

“Don’t look like a kicked puppy. It was obvious they wouldn’t grant us anything anymore. Certainly no plus ones,” Andrew said. “They need to learn to live without me anyway.”

Without turning around, Neil asked him, “What about your promise to Aaron? Aren’t you breaking it right now? Who will protect him now?”

“My brother is profoundly convinced he doesn’t need my protection anymore. And besides he didn’t hold up his part of our deal anyway.”

“You don’t break your promises.” Neil turned around to face Andrew. “How did he convince you?”

Andrew tilted his head. “Let’s not talk about my brother. It’s boring.”

“Fine, let’s talk about you instead. Why did you do this? Give me a reason and I’ll stop asking.” Neil had known what Andrew would do the second Allison had drawn Wymack’s name. He didn’t understand why.

“Easy, I do what I want,” Andrew said and turned on his heel to walk away.

He really had an annoying ability to calm Neil down one second and rile him up the next.

Dinner was subdued. So subdued, in fact, that there were long periods of silence relieved only by the removal of old dishes and presentation of new ones. Nicky’s and Aaron’s constant bickering, or Abby and Betsy talking about the day was somehow greatly missed all of a sudden.

Renee and Allison made occasional attempts at conversation, though. Neil wondered if Allison was secretly glad it wasn’t Renee who had to go back in the arena. He quickly suppressed that thought.

“I love the dress and your nails,” Renee said, smiling at her. Allison spread her fingers, so Renee could take a closer look. “Thank you. I had it especially done to match Neil’s pin. I was thinking we all get something orange so we could look like a team.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” said Renee. “How about it, Andrew?”

He only spared her the shortest of glances. “Whatever.”

Renee smiled, and they resumed to their food which they ate in silence. After the last dishes had been removed, Allison folded her arms on the table. “Let’s watch the recap of the Reapings.”

Renee went off to retrieve her notebook on the remaining living victors, and they gathered in the compartment with the television to see who Andrew’s and Neil’s competition would be in the arena.

In the history of the Games, there had been thirty-five victors. Thirty-three were still alive and thirty-one were available for the Reaping. To get twenty-four tributes out of this was almost impossible. And with some bewilderment Neil observed that District 12 had as many victors as the Careers district 2, only District 1 had more.

Were the Games staged after all? A rotating number of victors so it would be possible to organize such Anniversary Games? So every district could at least scrape up two victors?

The Reapings went by quickly. Renee studiously put stars by the names of the chosen tributes in her notebook. From time to time she would knit her brow unhappily when a name was drawn she knew well. Wymack watched with his arms tightly crossed, as friends and familiar faces stepped up to take the stage.

When it came to Matt Boyd from District 6 and Dan Wilds from District 7, Allison looked away with her lips tightly pressed together.

If Andrew was watching or just staring, Neil didn’t know. He, for his part, tried to make some mental record of the other tributes, but only a few stuck to his head.

To everyone’s surprise, Jean Moreau, Riko’s shadow, had been hand-picked by the president. Of course, there was Matt Boyd who helped a haggard looking woman on stage. Dan Wilds and a middle-aged woman, both with grim looking faces.

Neil was called. Then Wymack. And Andrew volunteered. One of the announcers actually got teary over Andrew’s apparent devotion to Neil. Then he pulled himself together to say he bet that “these will be the best Games ever!”

Renee and Allison left shortly after and Wymack bid them goodnight with a bottle of whiskey. “Go to bed,” Andrew told Neil.

“I can’t sleep anyway,” Neil said. He lay down on the sofa, his head close to Andrew’s thigh and stared with Andrew at the black television screen. After a while, Andrew snapped his finger and one of the Capitol attendants appeared out of the shadows as if he had been lurking there for a while. Andrew ordered a cup of hot chocolate and warm milk, before crouching down, next to the box Allison had sent of tapes of the old Hunger Games.

He started to rummage through it, but the arrival of the Capitol attendant interrupted him. The Capitol attendant handed Andrew the hot chocolate and placed the warm milk in front of Neil on the coffee table. He paused for a second, then said, “I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice.” He looked at Neil and Andrew like he wanted to say more, but then gave his head a slight shake and backed out of the room.

“What’s with him?” Neil asked, puzzled.

“He’s feeling bad for you. The only other effect you have on people, besides the urge to strangle you,” said Andrew.

“Right,” Neil said, reaching for the milk.

Andrew pulled out a few tapes at random. “Do you want to watch them again?” Neil asked.

“You watch them, so you won’t forget anything.” He held a few random tapes up. “Pick one.”

The tapes were marked with the year of the Games and the name of the victor. Neil sat down next to Andrew and dug around, when suddenly he found one they hadn’t watched. The year of the Games was three. And the name of the victor was David Wymack.

“We’ve never watched this one,” Neil said.

Andrew took a look. “He’s on our team, so there’s not much sense doing so.”

Neil bit his lip. “I want to watch it.”

“Okay,” Andrew only said. He put in the tape and Neil curled up next to him on the sofa, somehow missing the cats he had left behind in Betsy’s and Abby’s care. He took a few sips of the warm milk and found it actually delicious with the honey and the spices. He offered Andrew the cup to taste it and after a second, Andrew took it from him. Then Neil lost himself in the Third Hunger Games.

Wymack’s name was reaped last of all. It was somehow a shock to see him. Neil did the math and concluded he had to be around seventeen. His hair dark and curly, and his brown eyes bright, and, without the laughter lines, dangerous. His infamous flame tattoos did not yet decorate his arms.

The chariot rides – in which Wymack and a blonde girl were dressed in awful coal miners’ outfits – and the interviews flashed by. There was little time to focus on anyone. But since Wymack was going to be the victor, Neil and Andrew got to see one full exchange between him and Kathy Ferdinand’s predecessor.

“So, David, what do you think are your chances of winning the Games?” asked the host.

Wymack shrugged. “If they’re all as stupid as the other tributes before them, I think the odds may actually be in my favor.”

The audience burst out laughing and Wymack gave them a half-smile. Snarky. Arrogant. Indifferent. Completely different from the man Neil had come to know.

Now it was the morning the Games had begun. They watched from the point of view of one of the tributes as she rose up through the tube from the Launch Room and into the arena. Disbelief was reflected on the faces of the players. Even Wymack’s eyebrows lifted in pleasure, although they almost immediately knitted themselves back into a scowl.

It was the most breathtaking place imaginable. The golden Cornucopia sat in the middle of a green meadow with patches of colorful flowers. The sky was azure blue with puffy white clouds. By the way some of the tributes were sniffing, it must have smelled fantastic. An aerial shot showed that the meadow stretched for kilometers. Far in the distance, in one direction, there were woods, in the other, a snowcapped mountain.

The beauty disoriented many of the tributes, because when the gong sounded, most of them seemed like they were trying to wake from a dream. Not Wymack, though.

He was at the Cornucopia, armed with weapons and a backpack of choice supplies. He headed for the woods before most of the others had stepped off their plates.

Twelve tributes were killed in the bloodbath that first day. Others started to die off and it became clear that almost everything in this dreamlike place – the luscious fruit dangling from the bushes, the water in the streams, even the scent of the flowers when inhaled too directly – was deadly poisonous. Only the rainwater and the food provided at the Cornucopia were safe to consume.

Wymack encountered a few troubles in the woods, where fluffy golden squirrels turned out to be carnivorous and attacked in packs, and the butterfly stings brought agony if not death. But he persisted in moving forward, always keeping the distant mountain at his back.

Four days in, the mountain erupted in a volcano that wiped out half a dozen players. With the mountain spewing liquid fire, and the meadow offering no means of concealment, the remaining tributes had no choice but to confine themselves to the woods.

Wymack seemed bent on continuing in the same direction, away from the volcanic mountain, but a maze of tightly woven hedges forced him to circle back into the center of the woods, where he encountered two of the Careers and pulled his knife. He matched them in height and strength, but he also had remarkable speed and killed them both after a quick fight.

Using a blowtorch from one of the dead Careers’ packs, he finally made it through that impossible hedge. He found himself on a flat, dry earth that led to a cliff. Far below, there were jagged rocks.

Wymack skirted along the edge of the cliff as if trying to figure something out. His foot dislodged a pebble and it fell into the abyss, apparently gone forever. But a minute later, as he sat to rest, the pebble shot back up beside him. Wymack stared at it, puzzled, and then his face took on a strange intensity.

He lobbed a rock the size of his fist over the cliff and waited. When it flew back out and right into his hand, he started laughing.

Later that day two tributes were killed in combat and a third was eaten by a pack of those golden squirrels, leaving Wymack and a girl from District 1.

The inevitable fight was bloody and awful and both received what could well have been fatal wounds, when Wymack was finally disarmed.

He staggered through the woods, holding his intestines in, while she stumbled after him, carrying the axe that should deliver his death blow. Wymack made a beeline for his cliff and had just reached the edge when she threw the axe. He collapsed on the ground and it flew into the abyss.

Now weaponless as well, the girl just stood there, trying to staunch the flow of blood pouring from her empty eye socket. She was thinking perhaps that she could outlast Wymack, who was starting to convulse on the ground. But what she didn’t know, and what he did, was that the axe would return. And when it flew back over the ledge, it buried itself in her head. The cannon sounded, her body was removed, and the trumpets blew to announce Wymack’s victory.

Andrew clicked off the tape and they sat there in silence for a while. Finally Andrew said, “Wicked. So Coach didn’t win with his save-the-children act after all.”

“Not just that,” Neil said. “He turned that force field into a weapon against tributes and the Capitol, too. They didn’t expect that to happen, it wasn’t even meant to be part of the arena. They never planned on anyone using it as a weapon. It made them look stupid that he figured it out. It’s almost as bad as you and me with the berries.”

And suddenly Neil had to laugh. A short outburst he quickly stifled with his hand. Andrew watched him, face illuminated by the light of the television.

“Almost, but not quite,” said Wymack from behind them. Neil whipped around, expecting he was going to be angry over them watching his tape, but he just smiled.

Neil had spent all these weeks getting to know who his competitors were, without even thinking about who his teammates were. Something lit up in him, because he thought he finally knew who Wymack was. And he started to know who he was. And surely, two people who had caused the Capitol so much trouble could think of a way to get Andrew out of there alive.

Because no matter what Andrew said, Neil would pursue his own goal in the arena. Which consisted of keeping Andrew safe.

At the Remake Center, Neil and Andrew were separated once again, each waiting for Roland to give them their individual preparation. Neil was sitting on the same couch as the year before and staring out of the big glass front, when Roland finally entered. He didn’t smile and a moment later Neil could see why.

Right behind him, Riko stalked in, smile sharp and arms spread as if he wanted to hug Neil. Which he, fortunately, did not do.

“The Head Gamemaker is apparently greatly invested in your styling options,” Roland said, irritation barely kept from his voice.

“No reason for such indignation. You still have free reign to make the Capitol’s favorite tribute as remarkable as you wish, of course,” Riko said. “I’m only here to offer you the best possible outcome.”

He placed a container on the table in front of Neil. At first Neil had no idea what he was looking at, but he recognized the smell and color. Hair dye.

“No,” he said instantly. Riko only laughed, false and cruel. “I already thought you would say that. Just remember, your district still has two other tributes we can put in the arena. I mean, should anything happen to your current partner.”

What a blatant threat and that in front of a witness. Riko must be out of his mind. But as it was, Andrew would be dead before Neil could do anything to stop Riko.

“Make sure it looks good,” Riko said to Roland on his way out. Roland, for his part, looked like he wanted to bite his head off.

Long after the door had fallen shut behind Riko, neither of them said a word. “You don’t have to do this.” Roland came around the table to sit down next to Neil. He pushed the hair dye out of Neil’s sight since he couldn’t stop staring at it.

All things considered, it really didn’t matter anymore. This time, Neil was not intending to come back to District 12. He had promised Andrew to stay alive in the arena, but only until he was sure Andrew could make it. And somehow, Neil could appreciate the thought of Jackson Plank watching the Games and seeing Neil who looked exactly like his father, and realizing his mistake.

“It’s fine. I don’t care.”

Roland didn’t appear to be happy about it, even though he had asked several times to give Neil his natural looks back. But he said nothing, only sent Neil on his way to take a shower and started to spread out his working utensils. Afterwards he worked the dye through Neil’s hair, silent and frowning.

“It’s a great color. It fits you perfectly, but this is not how I wanted it,” he said after washing the remaining dye out and combing through Neil’s hair.

“Riko is getting delusional on his power trip,” Neil replied. Not caring if anyone was spying on them.

As it turned out, Roland left the boyish and innocent look behind for good. Neil’s face was almost obscured by the dramatic highlights and dark shadows. Sharp cheekbones, his eyes smudged with what appeared to be coal dust. Neil hadn’t dared to take a glimpse in the mirror yet, but he had to, eventually, if he wanted to avoid a similar reaction during the opening ceremonies as last year.

The costume seemed deceptively simple at first, just a fitted black jumpsuit that covered Neil from the neck down. Roland placed a half crown like the one Neil had received as a victor on his head, but it was made of a heavy black metal, not gold.

Then Roland adjusted the light in the room to mimic twilight and pressed a button just inside the fabric on Neil’s wrist. He looked down, fascinated, as his ensemble slowly came to life, first with soft golden light but gradually transforming to the orange-red of burning coal. The colors rose and fell, shifted and blended, exactly the way the coals in a fireplace did.

“How did you do this?” Neil asked.

“I spent a lot of hours watching fires,” said Roland. “Now look at yourself.”

He turned Neil towards a mirror so that he could take in the entire effect. He braced himself for his changed appearance, the face he wouldn’t recognize as his own but that of his father. And truly, he did not see Neil. But also not his father. He saw some unearthly being that looked like it might make its home in the volcano that had destroyed so many in Wymack’s Games.

The black crown, which now appeared red-hot, casted strange shadows on his face. His now auburn hair looked like actual flames burning around his face and on his head. And his eyes, they weren’t his father’s eyes but burning ice staring at him from his coal-dusted face.

“I’m not sure Andrew will like this,” Neil said, tilting his head. “Is he also wearing the crown?”

Roland laughed loudly, “He’ll live.” He touched the button on Neil’s wrist again, extinguishing the light. “Let’s not run down your power pack. When you’re on the chariot this time, do what Andrew does.”

Neil frowned. “Nothing?”

“Exactly. Just look straight ahead, as if the entire audience is beneath your notice.”

“I guess I can do that,” Neil said.

Roland had a few more things to attend to, but he told Neil where to find Andrew, so they could head down to the ground floor of the Remake Center together.

Andrew was indeed in the same outfit as Neil once again. Even the dark coal dust around his eyes and the crown had found their way on him somehow. But it suited him, Neil thought. He looked dangerous, not to Neil, but probably to anyone else.

His eyes found Neil’s hair and he raised his hand, but stopped shy of actually touching. Neil did it for him and ruffled through it with his fingers. “Yeah, Riko thought it would be a good idea,” Neil said with a shrug.

“And of course you have to do what Riko says,” Andrew replied, voice mocking.

“I thought it was in your interest that he doesn’t kill me on the first day in the arena?”

Andrew pressed his forefinger in Neil’s cheek and pushed his face away. “Your smart mouth is not attractive, better keep it shut to please your sponsors.” Neil grinned. “I bet you like my mouth well enough. I have only delightful things to say.”

For a second Andrew stared at him with an unreadable expression before turning around and making his way over to the elevators. “You are so stupid,” he said to the elevator door, not even glancing in Neil’s direction.

When they made it to the stables, the mood was noticeably different than last year, when all the tributes had been practically glued to their chariots. Now the scene was social. The victors, both this year’s tributes and their mentors, were standing around in small groups, talking. Of course, they all knew one another and Neil and Andrew didn’t know anyone, except for Matt Boyd and Dan Wilds.

As they both weren’t the sort of person to go around introducing themselves, and also had little interest in any form of closer contact, they stood with their horses. Neil could tell they were the same as last year, big and strong, and a perfect hiding spot if you were short enough and didn’t want to be noticed.

Unfortunately, people didn’t seem to get the hint. The first to make their way over to them was not Matt or any other friendly face, though. Jean Moreau stood only centimeters from Neil, hand resting on the back of Neil’s horse. He was a giant, clad in a black tunic, decorated with sapphires and other, similar colored gems.

“I thought you would be better at hiding yourself,  _ Neil _ ,” he said. And the way he put emphasis on his name, Neil was sure Jean knew. Of course, he was Riko’s favorite pet. Neil decided to follow Roland’s advice and did exactly what Andrew did, which was ignoring his surroundings, including Jean.

However, Jean was hard to get rid of and simply continued talking. His eyes flickered over to Andrew and then back to Neil. “You’re lucky the people here still buy your boyfriend act. Otherwise President Moriyama would have sold you to the highest bidder already. Even if you’re causing them trouble, they can still exploit your face. Word is Capitol people are willing to pay a lot for a night with you.”

Andrew had his knife pressed against Jean’s abdomen before Neil could even blink. Jean was a little pale, but his eyes remained unyielding as he stared down into Andrew’s.

“Careful, One. Just because it’s illegal to go against a tribute before the Games, doesn’t mean I care. Now shoo, go back to your owner.” Andrew let go but pointed the tip of his knife still warningly at Jean.

Jean clicked his tongue. “What an obedient little guard dog.”

“Yes, you would know everything about guard dogs and being sold, right Jean?” Neil said. “Must be really bitter if your own mother didn’t care enough to protect you from such a fate. I, at least, had that.”

The casual haughtiness on Jean’s face turned into something dark just then. But their conversation was interrupted by someone calling Jean’s name. One of the District 1 mentors waved him over, and Neil realized the opening ceremonies were about to start. Jean left them for his own chariot, but not without giving Neil a last glance over his shoulder. Maybe Neil had just made one more enemy in the arena, but what else was new? Jean had been probably picked to make sure Neil would definitely die, he was close to Riko after all.

The music was beginning and the doors opened for the first chariot with Jean and the other District 1 tribute, a big, grinning man.

Neil looked around when he stood next to Andrew on their chariot. “Where’s Roland? And the others?”

Last time they had seen them off, Roland setting them literally on fire. This time they were all alone. “Who knows,” Andrew said, but reached for Neil’s wrist to switch the costume on. He did the same to himself, and when they started to glow, people pointed at them and chattered.

“Are you going to have another nervous breakdown?” Andrew asked. Neil rolled his eyes. “Yes, better hold me bridal style before I pass out halfway down the road,” he said, voice heavy with sarcasm.

Andrew pinched his waist without leaving the chariot in front of them out of sight. “Don’t get fucking smart on me. I’m not the one running from my problems in the middle of the night to pack a backpack and adopt two cats to distract myself from said problems.”

“You love them,” Neil said cheekily.

The voice of the crowd rose into one universal scream as they rolled into the fading evening light. Neil simply fixed his eyes on a point far in the distance and pretended there was no audience, no hysteria.

As they reached the City Circle and came to a halt to listen to President Moriyama’s speech, Neil noticed the other tributes staring at them. He caught Matt Boyd’s grin and couldn’t help but return at least a short glance. Matt was nice and Neil came to the decision that he probably somehow liked him.

His partner, the haggard looking woman, seemed particularly interested in their ever-changing coal costumes. Neil was pretty sure she was a morphling addict, a common occurrence, especially in District 6. She was bone thin, with sagging yellowish skin. She couldn’t tear her overlarge eyes away, even when Kengo Moriyama started to speak from his balcony, welcoming them all to the Anniversary Games.

The anthem played, and as they made their final trip around the circle, Neil noticed Ichirou’s eyes on him as well.

Roland and Allison were there the second the doors of the Training Center closed behind them. Pleased with their performance, Allison praised Neil by slinging an arm around his shoulder and guiding him over to where Wymack and Renee were talking to Matt and Dan. They both grinned at Andrew and Neil when they saw them approaching.

“Your costumes are so damn cool, I wish my stylist would have learned anything from Roland last year,” Dan said. She was stuck in a paper dress in different shades of brown. Of course, paper and lumber – District 7.

“I think you look extremely sexy,” Matt said, eying her up as if she didn’t look like a person pressed inside a tree trunk. She laughed and boxed his shoulder. To Neil he said, “Man, it’s a real shame we meet like this again. Let’s make the best out of our short time.” Neil could only nod, he didn’t want to befriend Matt and Dan. He might have, as a mentor and seeing them every year for the Games, but now he had to kill them to save Andrew.

That short interaction was about all the time they got before the Capitol attendants were firmly directing everyone towards the elevators. Neil got the distinct feel they were not comfortable with the camaraderie among the victors, who couldn’t seem to care less.

As he walked with Andrew and Allison towards the elevators, someone else rustled up to his side. The District 10 tribute, Neil couldn’t remember his name, but he gave off some unpleasant vibes, therefore Neil hadn’t bothered learning it.

“Fuck off, Seth,” Allison said. She looked annoyed and tried to pull Neil to another elevator. Seth caught her arm, though, and held her back.

“Don’t be a bitch, aren’t we old enough to at least ride a fucking elevator together?” he asked, annoyed.

Unfortunately, they ended up with Seth on the same elevator, and he and Allison spent the whole ride to the tenth floor throwing vile words at each other.

“Are you still not over your ‘I like girls now’ phase? And of all the hot chicks, you go with the Christian?” Seth spit out. Allison examined her bright orange nails when she answered, “At least she knows what she’s doing compared to a certain trembling cherry boy.”

“You fucking bitch!” he roared and pointed his finger dangerously close to Allison’s face. Neil looked up to the ceiling, hoping they would soon reach Seth’s floor. Apparently his insight into human nature had not completely abandoned him, no matter what Roland said. Seth was as unpleasant as imagined, and then some more.

“What’s with the look, pretty boy? Is my presence bothering you? No wonder his Highness chose you last year.” Seth turned on him now, since Allison simply shoved his hand away and ignored him.

With a sigh, Neil said, “Honestly? Yes, you are fucking annoying. We are literally standing on each other’s feet, so stop screaming around like a lunatic. We can hear you.”

Seth took a step closer, but Andrew cut in before he could say anything. “Back off,” he said, bored. He didn’t even look in Seth’s direction, instead his eyes were fixated on the disappearing ground floor.

“Right, I forgot. You’re fucking the other tribute from your district. What the fuck is wrong with you people from 12?” he said to Neil in disgust. Thankfully, that was when the door to the tenth floor opened and Seth had to step out.

“He’s an asshole, but harmless,” Allison told them with a shrug. They reached their own floor and Neil only said, “I know.” After all, he could differentiate between someone with some sort of complex and big mouth, and someone who could actually be dangerous to him.

Renee and Wymack joined them, looking pleased about something. Dinner would be served in an hour, so Neil went to his old bedroom and struggled out of his costume. In the bathroom he risked a short glance in the mirror. The scars were there, but his face still looked like it belonged to someone else. The second he washed the dust and make-up from his skin, he would have to face himself, though.

The shower was quick and afterwards he avoided any further looks in the mirror. He dressed in a simple shirt and trousers and went down the hall to the dining room. Everyone was already there, so they started early.

“I love the hair, Neil,” Allison said some time later. “Was it Roland’s idea?”

After a moment of hesitation, he said, “Yes.” It had been Roland’s idea before Riko had even seen him.

“Did you choose the color?” Renee asked. “I could imagine he wanted to dye it bright red. But like this it is really natural.”

Well, wasn’t this just awkward now? He bit his lip and looked back down, poking around in his food. “It’s my natural hair color.”

There was a pause around the table, when everyone stopped eating to stare at Neil. Everyone, except Andrew. Finally, Allison said a little exasperated, “Okay, I know we agreed not to ask Neil about his family after Andrew told us so. But really? What the fuck, Neil?”

“Allison,” Renee said, gentle censure in her voice.

“No, I know he has his reasons, but we’re a team! Like he didn’t even ask for his parents when we were in District 8! And why the contact lenses and the colored hair?”

Neil felt heat rising up all over his body. How stupid was he? He had completely forgotten about his made-up background on the Victory Tour. He was so used to being around Andrew, where there were almost no secrets left between them, that he had become careless with everyone else. Apparently Andrew had remembered it, and had saved him once again.

Before he could stop himself, Neil came up with another lie. “My parents… they are kind of the reason why I ended up in District 12.” Close enough to the truth. “They were arrested for treason. Rebellious propaganda and such. They couldn’t charge me since I didn’t do anything. But they sent me away before I could cause any more trouble.”

Andrew’s eyes rested heavily on Neil, but he refused to feel guilty for lying again. Andrew may understand him, but there was no guarantee the others would. Which was not fair, every single one of them had earned Neil’s trust ten times over, but Neil also couldn’t help it. His mother would have beaten the shit out of him for messing up so badly, the least he could was to leave the others in the dark about his past.

“Well, looks like that effort was futile. Your parents would be proud of you now,” Allison said after some silence. She seemed satisfied with his answer, and Neil bit back a humorless laugh. Both of his parents were surely anything but proud of him right now. Should some sort of heaven or hell exist, his mother probably cursed him from there right now. Not to mention what his father thought of him.

They finished their dinner with idle chit-chat, and after watching the recap of the opening ceremonies, for which Roland joined them, Neil excused himself to go to bed. Wymack called a reminder to meet early for breakfast to work out their training strategy.

Andrew followed him, but headed straight for the rooftop door, and after a moment of consideration, Neil tagged along.

Andrew had two cigarettes ready when Neil finally joined him at the railing. They sat down, feet dangling over the edge, and smoked in silence. Neil thought about his plan of keeping Andrew alive without him even noticing. He had wrung some sort of promise out of Neil, that he had to stay alive no matter what. And Neil intended to keep that promise, but should it come down to the both of them, Neil knew what he would do.

“Thank you,” he said after flicking the stub of his cigarette against the force field.

“For what?” Andrew asked.

“For covering me there with the District 8 story. I don’t know, for everything else, too, I guess.” Neil turned his head to look at Andrew, and Andrew watched him from the corner of his eye. “You saved my life quite a few times in the arena. Uhm, you kept me grounded, too, you know. When I got lost up here,” he pointed to his temple, “You’ve never told anyone about my secrets. Thank you, for all that. I thought you should know.”

Andrew dug a finger in Neil’s cheek and forcibly turned his head away. “Don’t look at me like that. I am not your answer, and you sure as fuck aren’t mine.”

“I’m not—” Neil started, but changed his mind. “Can we play another round?”

Andrew pulled out another cigarette for himself. “It’s my turn, don’t you think? You learned quite a bit about me during our last visit here.”

Neil ducked his head. “Okay,” he agreed. “Ask me something.” He watched as Andrew lit his cigarette, took a few drags, but threw it away again. He found another one in his pocket, but only stared at it. A few minutes passed without either of them saying anything.

“Here’s a question,” he said then. “What would you do if I kissed you?”

The world tilted a little bit sideways. “What?” Neil blinked. “You hate me.”

Andrew finally lit the cigarette, but only watched it burn. “Every inch of you,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you.”

Neil had to grab the edge of the rooftop so he wouldn’t fall over. “You like me.”

“Learn to use your ears, I hate you,” Andrew corrected him, but Neil barely heard him.

For a dizzying moment, he understood. He thought of Andrew giving in to him time after time and holding him up when Neil needed him most. It also answered Neil’s question why he would volunteer again, only to go with Neil in the arena. Why he had been looking for him in the arena, why he had saved him.

Neil tried to piece it all together, but the more he pushed, the faster it fell apart. He didn’t know what to think. It took him three tries to find his voice again. “You never said anything.”

“Why should I have?” Andrew took a drag and shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m self-destructive, not stupid,” he said. “You don’t swing, remember? And also, I know better. Nothing will come of it.”

“Nothing,” Neil echoed. For a moment he couldn’t do anything but stare at the orange glow of Andrew’s cigarette. Eventually he said, “Okay.”

But it didn’t sound okay and he didn’t feel okay. What was he supposed to do with a truth like this? He was going to die in the arena. He wasn’t supposed to be this for anyone, Andrew least of all.

Andrew got up without another word and left the roof. Only when Neil stood up to follow him after a few minutes, he realized he hadn’t even answered Andrew’s question. And it had been his turn, yet Neil had gotten another truth from Andrew without even asking.

It was hours before he could stop thinking long enough to make an attempt to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F I N A L L Y ! ! ! Andrew's patience knows no limits except when it comes to Neil  
> Also Neil when someone cares for him: lol what's his problem  
> (I accidentally spelled Jean's name Monroe for some reason. So if you see it anywhere, please tell me ;D)


	15. Impact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys and your comments so much!! I kind of struggled with this chapter because I had no idea where I was going with it haha  
> Also I'm officially out of aftg characters! Had to name a few of the tributes on my own like some sort of savage :')

Neil woke up before even the sun was fully up. The first few rays peeked over the horizon and a glance to the clock told him he still had two hours before meeting the others for breakfast. His night had been weirdly… quiet. He had expected to be chased by more nightmares upon his return to the Capitol. The place he had spent the worst hours of his life.

But the conversation with Andrew had kept his mind occupied until he had fallen asleep, and his dreams had been full of things he couldn’t remember now awake.

Neil allowed himself a few minutes in which he let his fantasy run wild. He had kissed people before. Well, people might be a little excessive to describe the quick encounters he had had with two girls. None of them had been satisfying in any way, and quite frankly, they hadn’t been worth his mother’s heavy fists after she had found out.

The last years he had completely ignored such thoughts. He still had needs, but it wasn’t something he really enjoyed doing. Not in a way Nicky sometimes liked to joke about. It was something that had to be dealt with, like hunger or thirst. Quick and efficient, not something he really indulged in.

For the shortest moment Neil saw himself with Andrew in this way. He knew what it was like to feel Andrew close to him. His chest pressed against Neil’s back, his hand in Neil’s neck. His fingers in Neil’s hair. The low rush in his gut he knew from feeling the safety of Andrew around him. The protection Andrew’s proximity brought with it.

He wasn’t really going anywhere with this, Neil realized. He sat up and rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. He might as well get up now, maybe he could catch Wymack before anyone else was up.

After hastily washing his face, he put on the clothes Roland had left for training, and went down the hall to the dining room.

It wasn’t even seven yet, but Wymack was sitting at the table with a cup of black coffee and Renee’s notes about the other victors. On his wrist Neil saw him wearing a solid black bangle with an orange pattern of flames – it must be his concession to Allison’s matching-token plan.

Neil took the seat opposite of him, waiting for the right words to find him. After ten minutes or so, Wymack put his pen down and looked up. “Spit it out, Josten,” he said.

Since Neil still couldn’t find the right words to express his objective, he changed his approach. “How did you decide who you’d support in the arena? Like before they changed the rules?” Neil asked. “Why did you send me the burn medicine?”

Wymack studied him for a moment. “We split it up,” he said then. “I was responsible for you, Renee for Andrew. The burn medicine was because you obviously needed it. Andrew fared a little better than you without help from outside.”

Neil bit his lip. “If you two worked together, you’d get even more sponsors, right?”

With a sigh, Wymack rubbed his temple like he often did when stressed out. “Kid, I know what you’re getting at here. Your partner in crime wanted to talk me into this right after the announcement.”

“I’m—” Neil started, but Wymack held his hand up to silence him. “Neither Renee nor I will choose between you. We keep our system, I do what I can do for you, and Renee does the same for Andrew.”

Tugging at his hair in frustration, Neil tried again, “No, you don’t understand. You have to do everything in your power to help him. If you see him in trouble and Renee can’t do enough for him, you have to help her to help him, okay? Promise me that, and I’ll do anything you want from me!”

Wymack’s eyes were unwavering when he took Neil in. It was almost creepy how he didn’t blink for several moments, but eventually he let out a long, tired sigh. “How about a compromise? Since you will stick together in the arena to save each other’s life, Renee and I will also work together. We are going to keep the both of you alive for as long as I see it fit, understood? But if Andrew is barely scraping by and I have the chance to get you out of there, I won’t hesitate. That’s a decision I have to make. We have a deal?”

It wasn’t really what Neil wanted, but he could ensure that Andrew stayed in better shape than him, and make him a desirable victor. Mouth tightly pressed together, he nodded. “Deal.”

“Good, now come over and help me with these notes. Any thoughts yet?” Wymack waved him over and showed Neil the notes with Renee’s remarks and a few of his own.

They spent another two hours like this, in which Neil was spacing out more than actually paying attention, until first Renee showed up, directly followed by Allison and some time later, Andrew. He acted like nothing had ever happened between them and until Neil knew what he was supposed to think, he gladly embraced Andrew’s indifference.

After breakfast, Wymack showed Andrew what he and Neil had worked on, and said, “Today, in training, you’ve got two jobs. One, stay together.”

“Obviously,” Neil said.

“And two, make some friends,” Wymack added.

“No,” Andrew said. And Neil could only agree with him. He didn’t trust any of them, he couldn’t stand most of them and he’d rather operate with just Andrew and him.

“Listen here, you little shits,” Wymack started, impatience seeping in his voice, “the two of you won’t be enough. You’re going to need more allies this time around.”

“Why?” Neil asked.

“Because you’re at a distinct disadvantage. Your competitors have known each other for years. So who do you think they’re going to target first?” he said.

“Us. And nothing we can do is going to override any pathetic old friendship,” Andrew responded. “So why bother?”

“Do you want to get Neil out of the arena, or not?” Wymack’s impatience slowly turned into anger and Neil couldn’t help the urge to take a step back. He withstood, however. Instead he crossed his arms defensively in front of him.

Andrew gave Wymack a flat look. “Ouch, Coach. That was low.”

Sighing, Wymack pinched the bridge of his nose and some of the tension left his body. “Look, you both can fight. You’re popular with the crowd. That could still make you desirable allies. But only if you let the others know you’re willing to team up with them,” he said.

“You want us in the Career pack this year?” Neil asked, unable to hide his distaste. The distrust between the Career tributes was even worse than between normal tributes. Neil would certainly not get a wink of sleep surrounded by them, Andrew even less.

“That’s been our strategy, hasn’t it? To train like Careers?” Wymack countered. “And who makes up the Career pack is generally agreed upon before the Games begin.”

Neil thought about Gorilla and Raven Girl. He couldn’t work with people like them. Much less entrust Andrew’s and his life to them. “So we’re to try to get in with Jean and,” he couldn’t remember any other tributes from 1,2 and 4, “his like – is that what you’re saying?”

“Not necessarily,” Renee chimed in. “Everyone’s a victor. Make your own pack if you’d rather. Choose who you like. I’d suggest Dan and Matt. Although Jean’s not to be ignored.”

Wymack nodded his approval. “Find someone to team up with who might be of some use to you. Remember, you’re not in a ring full of trembling children anymore. These people are all experienced killers, no matter what shape they appear to be in.”

Maybe he was right, Neil thought. Only who could he trust? Maybe Matt and Dan were a good start. But he didn’t want to get close to them, only to kill them later.

To appease Wymack and Renee, he told them he would try, even though he thought he and Andrew would be pretty bad at the whole thing.

Allison offered to take them down to the gym, a little earlier this time because last year they had been the last two tributes to show up. But Renee told her to let them go alone. None of the other victors would be showing up with a babysitter, and being the youngest, it was even more important they looked self-reliant. As if Jean and Matt were that much older with the year they had on Andrew.

Allison still insisted on taking them to the elevator, fussing over Neil’s hair, and pushing the button for them.

It was a short ride down, and as it turned out Allison didn’t have to be worried about them being the last to arrive. Only Jean’s district partner and a woman from District 2 were present. Neil remembered the woman as the tribute who had killed one tribute in hand-to-hand combat by ripping open his throat with her teeth. Neil was sure Lola would like her.

By ten o’clock, only about half of the tributes had shown up. Thea, the woman who ran training, began her spiel right on time, unfazed by the poor attendance. Maybe she had expected it.

Neil was relieved, because that meant there were a dozen people he didn’t have to pretend to make friends with. Thea went through the list of stations, which included both combat and survival skills, and released them to train.

Matt Boyd made a beeline for Neil and greeted him like they were already friends. Used to Andrew ignoring him, he pointed to the sword fighting station and asked, “You want to join me? I heard Kevin instructed you last year. He’s usually a lot less generous with his lessons.”

“Didn’t really feel generous to me,” Neil said, remembering all the cuts and bruises, and Kevin’s constant nagging.

Matt laughed. “Sounds just like Kevin.”

As it turned out, Matt was a lot more patient and pleasant as a trainer. He showed Neil a few tricks and had actual words of encouragement for him. For the hour they were wielding swords, Neil forgot Matt was his opponent in a game to death and felt like they were just doing this for fun.

Andrew was lazing around and watching them, ignoring everyone who approached him which was surprisingly not uncommon. Dan tried it again, but only shook her head when she didn’t succeed. Jean’s district partner, Titus as Neil overheard, came up next, watching Neil and Matt for a while before trying to lure Andrew into some spear throwing.

When Matt called for a break, Andrew had successfully driven off any other tribute, exactly what they weren’t supposed to do. But Neil was secretly glad, the training with Matt was fun but only because he made it easy to like him. People like Seth or Titus were pretty low on his ally wish list. Frankly, his list had only one name on it. Maybe one and a half now, he thought while storing away the swords with Matt.

“Can I ask you something, Neil?” Matt asked him then. His eyes darted over to Andrew who was out of earshot and staring blankly at the empty knot-tying station.

Neil was fairly sure he wouldn’t like what would come next, but he said anyway, “Okay.”

Matt looked over his shoulder before continuing in a low voice, “So the whole thing with you and Andrew… Is that real or just an act?”

Neil’s thoughts went straight to the conversation from yesterday. Andrew liked him. Still did, that wasn’t something that would go away overnight. And Neil would still be dead in a few weeks.

He gave Matt a cool look. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Alright,” Matt grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, you are right. It’s just the betting pool is getting nuts over it.”

“What?” Neil frowned in bewilderment. Matt blinked, then rubbed over the back of his head as if to stall for some more time. “Uhm, you know. A few people here are betting. On you. And him.”

Neil only stared at him until Matt obviously felt uncomfortable. Then he said, “You are just like the rest of these Capitol people.”

He turned around to get Andrew so they could move on to another station, and ignored Matt calling out to him. Andrew took in his scowl and asked flatly, “What, did you two break up already?”

“Funny. Let’s just go,” Neil said and picked a random vacant station where tributes could learn to build fires. He already made excellent fires, but he was still dependent on matches for starting them. So the trainer had him work with flint, steel and some charred cloth.

It was much harder than it looked, and even working as intently as he could, it took Neil about another hour to get the fire going. He looked up with a triumphant smile only to find someone had joined them.

The two tributes from District 3 were beside Neil and Andrew, struggling to start a decent fire with matches. Andrew watched them with an impassive expression, and Neil thought about leaving. But he really wanted to try using the flint again, and after the more or less positive attempt in befriending Matt, he could report back to Wymack he had really tried today. These two might be a bearable choice.

Both were small in stature, the man was probably in his late thirties with ashen skin and black hair. The girl’s skin was dark-brown and her hair had a similar color to Neil’s. Neil tried to remember their names, he was sure the girl was called Jane or Janie. The man he had no idea.

The girl spoke in a quiet voice while the man was somewhat fidgety. He wore glasses but spent a lot of time looking under them. They were a little strange, but as they came from District 3, Neil was curious enough to get confirmation about the situation in their district.

Neil glanced around the Training Center. Matt and Dan were using the archery station. The morphling from Matt’s district painted her face with bright pink swirls in the camouflage station. Jean was at the center of a circle of knife throwers. Seth and the woman from District 7 raced each other to the top of a climbing wall. Andrew sat next to him, their shoulders brushing as he actually made an attempt at building a fire.

As it turned out the girl’s name was indeed Janie. The man’s name Neil still didn’t catch, but they both made decent company. They seemed friendly enough but did not pry. Neil was content with just listening as they told him they both invented things. Janie talked about her recent success creating a musical chip that was tiny enough to be concealed in a flake of glitter but could hold hours of songs.

Neil remembered Allison mentioning it on the phone when she was dropping hints about possible uprisings in certain districts. Neil took the opportunity to steer the conversation in that direction.

“My escort, Allison, was all upset a few months ago, I think, because she couldn’t get hold of that,” he said casually. “I guess a lot of orders from District 3 were getting backed up.” If the pinch in his arm from Andrew was anything to go by, he wasn’t very subtle about it, though.

Janie examined him for a moment. “Yes. Did you have any similar back-ups in coal production this year?” she asked.

“No. I mean a couple of weeks were lost after they brought in a new Head Peacekeeper and his crew, but nothing major,” Neil said.

They understood what he was trying to say. There had been no uprising. “Oh. That’s a shame,” the man said in a slightly disappointed voice. “I found your district very interesting.”

Neil bit his lip. “There aren’t many people in 12. Not that you’d know it nowadays by the size of the force the Butcher send in.” His heart started to beat faster by just mentioning his father. Janie looked at him. “He visited our district personally,” she said in her quiet voice and Neil swallowed his tongue. He didn’t want to think about what his father had done to District 3.

As they moved over to the shelter station, Janie stopped and gazed up at the stands where the Gamemakers were roaming around, eating and drinking, sometimes taking notice of the tributes.

Neil had tried his best to ignore them, even though he could not only feel Riko’s eyes boring into him, but Kevin’s as well. When Neil had trained with Matt, Kevin had looked like he wanted to come down and take matters into his own hands.

“Look,” Janie said, giving her head a slight nod in the Gamemakers’ direction. Neil didn’t have to look up to see Riko watching him. He didn’t see why it even merited comment, but he said nevertheless, “He’s been promoted to Head Gamemaker this year, let’s hope he finds the same end as his uncle.”

“No, no,” she said, “I mean yes, but there by the corner of the table.”

Her district partner squinted under his glasses. “You can just make it out.”

Neil stared in that direction, but couldn’t really see anything. Until suddenly Andrew grabbed his chin and turned his head a little more to the right, and then he saw it. A patch of space about fifteen centimeters square at the corner of the table seemed almost to be vibrating. It was as if the air was rippling in tiny visible waves, distorting the sharp edges of the wood and a goblet of wine someone had set there.

“A force field,” Andrew said. Janie nodded. “They’ve set that up between them and us. I wonder what brought that on.”

Andrew gave Neil a pointed look to which Neil only shrugged. “Last year I threw a knife at them during my private session,” he told Janie and her partner. They both looked at him curiously. “I was provoked. So, do all force fields have a spot like that?” Neil asked to change the subject.

“Chink,” said Janie’s partner vaguely.

“In the armor,” Janie added. “Ideally it’d be invisible, wouldn’t it?”

Neil noticed Andrew’s eyes on her just then, and he wanted to ask them more, but lunch was announced.

Together they made their way into the dining area. Neil was surprised that Andrew was apparently alright with the District 3 duo joining them, but then he saw that a few of the tributes had other ideas. They were dragging all the smaller tables to form one large table so that they all had to eat together.

Andrew stopped, and so did Neil. “No,” he simply said to Neil, and Neil nodded in agreement. The talk with Janie and her partner had been interesting enough, but he wasn’t joining this school-like nonsense with people who bet on him and Andrew.

Matt and Dan had other ideas though, and they walked over to them. “Come on, you two! You stick all the time together, give us some of your precious time,” Dan grinned. Andrew was already turning around to leave.

Overwhelmed, Neil grasped for the back of Andrew’s shirt to stop him. That earned him a flat look, but Andrew waited. For now.

Matt and Dan came to a halt in front of them. “How is it going?” Dan asked, conversationally.

“Good. Fine,” Neil replied stiffly. “I like the District 3 victors.”

Matt blinked perplexed. “Really? They’re something of a joke to the others.”

“How shocking,” Andrew said to everyone’s surprise. It was probably the first time he had reacted to anything that came from the other victors, apart from Seth and Jean.

“Seth nicknamed them Suicide and Bloody Mary,” Matt said. “I think she’s Suicide and he’s Bloody Mary.”

“Because Seth is such a great judge of character,” Neil replied.

Matt held his hands up defensively. “I’m just sharing information.”  He looked behind himself where most of the tributes had already taken a seat and were talking and joking around over their food. “Join us for lunch, just this time. Get to know the others,” he asked again and Dan nodded enthusiastically.

Andrew and Neil shared a quick glance. Maybe they should get to know their competition better beforehand. Andrew signaled with a minimal raise of his eyebrow that it was Neil’s call. So Neil muttered his acceptance and found himself squeezed between Andrew and Matt and across from the woman of Dan’s district.

Dan introduced her as Niobe, her mentor. They could actually be mother and daughter, both had the same dark skin, vibrant eyes, toothy grin and could probably beat Matt in an arm wrestling match. Neil also finally learned the name of Janie’s partner, Sola.

He noticed how most tributes stuck with their district partner, except for Matt and the morphling woman. She wasn’t shunned by the others, it was simply that she and Matt didn’t interact. At all. He also saw the way the others watched him and Andrew when Neil asked him something and Andrew felt like answering. Matt gave him apologetic smiles when it became too obvious that someone was staring, but Neil only shrugged him off. Nothing really had changed there.

After lunch, Neil decided to check out the others some more. He could imagine forming an alliance with Dan and her mentor, with Matt, Janie and Sola, too. They all seemed trustworthy enough and like they could be useful, once they were in the arena.

The rest of the first day Neil spent with Dan and Niobe at the edible-insect station while Andrew watched them with something like disgust on his face, and later with the sister and brother from District 2 who invited them both over to make some hammocks for a while. They were polite but cool and Neil thought about Gorilla the whole time. How they most likely had mentored him and had watched him being eaten alive while Neil had done nothing but tune it out.

In the evening Renee surprised them with the tips of her hair being dyed in different shades of orange. Neil was so tired he thought he could fall asleep right away, but instead he found himself lying awake again, thinking about everything and nothing. More often than not his thoughts returned to Andrew and how to keep him safe, but also how he wanted to kiss Neil.

He woke up from a nightmare as usual, but he had actually slept more than six hours.

The next five days passed in a similar pattern until Seth approached them after another training session with Matt. It was obvious he was after a fight, for some reason he brought Kevin up and was just generally annoying.

Neil, tired and exhausted after a bad night and getting beat up by Matt, simply threw his sword on the floor and walked away. Andrew who was tying knots with Janie followed him with his eyes, but stayed put when he saw where Neil was going.

Giving up on making friends, Neil went over to the archery range for some sanity. He had tried a few new things back in District 12, before the fence had started working again, and somehow he had greatly missed the feeling of a bow in his hand. His mother had shown him how to use one. It had been her weapon of choice as a girl before leaving District 1 for the Capitol. Why she had even married his father, Neil still couldn’t understand. His whole childhood had only consisted of violence towards her or towards him, he could never imagine her being in love with his father.

Neil let a few arrows fly and Thea, who was the trainer for that station, quickly saw that the standing targets offered no challenge for him. So she started to launch silly fake birds high into the air for him to hit. At first it seemed stupid, but it turned out to be kind of fun.

Since Neil was hitting everything she threw up, she started increasing the number of birds she sent airborne. Neil forgot the rest of the gym and the victors and Kevin and Riko watching him and lost himself in the shooting.

When he managed to take down five birds in one round, he realized it was so quiet he could hear each one hitting the floor. Neil turned and saw the majority of the victors had stopped to watch him.

After training Andrew gave him an unimpressed look in the elevator and said, “I don’t know how you ever thought you could pass as plain and unremarkable. You really can’t miss an opportunity to show off.”

“Not everyone’s as good at hiding stuff as you are,” Neil said teasingly. “I know that you know every name and probably even birthday of every single tribute in there, but you still call them by their district number.”

“You should try that, too. You’re getting attached,” said Andrew flatly.

“There’s only one tribute I’m attached to.” The words were out before Neil could really think about them and then it was too late. Silence befell them, until their elevator reached the twelfth floor and Allison immediately dragged them into the dining room.

Wymack almost pounced on Neil. “So at least half of the victors request you as an ally. I know it can’t be your sunny personality.”

“They saw him shoot,” Andrew answered for Neil.

Wymack blinked. “You’re that good? So good that Titus wants you?”

Neil thought about Jean’s district partner and grimaced. “I don’t want Titus. I want Matt and Dan.” Wymack nodded approvingly, but sighed when Neil added, “And District 3.”

“Of course you do,” Wymack said and ordered some whiskey. “What about you, Andrew?”

“I don’t care,” Andrew answered.

“Of course you don’t.” Wymack only shook his head. “Well, it’s better than nothing.”

 

After dinner, Neil followed Andrew to their rooms. In a split of a second, however, he decided to walk past his door and instead trailed Andrew to his own room.

“And what exactly are you doing?” Andrew asked, pushing the door open. He blocked Neil’s way to the room, so Neil responded, “I still owe you an answer.”

Andrew raised a single eyebrow. “Let me in?” Neil asked.

After a moment, Andrew stepped aside and allowed Neil to enter with a mocking gesture.

The room looked exactly like Neil’s. Except for a few books on the bedside table, nothing else indicated that someone lived there. Andrew closed the door, but leaned against it, observing Neil who stood in the middle of the room. “Make it quick, would you,” Andrew said.

“I have a question first,” Neil started, a little unsure where to begin. Andrew said nothing, but the impatient flick of his wrist urged Neil to continue. It took Neil a few moments to figure out the right words.

“When you say you don’t like being touched, is it because you don’t like it at all or because you don’t trust anyone else enough to let them touch you?”

Andrew’s face stayed unchanged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If it didn’t, I wouldn’t ask,” Neil said.

“It doesn’t matter to someone who doesn’t swing,” Andrew clarified.

Neil shrugged. “I don’t because I’ve never been allowed to. The only thing I could think about growing up was surviving.” And maybe that was the reason why it didn’t matter that Andrew was a man or Neil usually didn’t feel anything, no matter if woman or man. But the idea of Andrew was so intertwined with the idea of Neil’s safety that this too was a means of self-preservation.

“Letting someone in meant trusting them to not betray me. I was too afraid to risk it, so it was easier to be alone and not think about it. But I trust you.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

“But I do. With my life and everything else.” Neil gave Andrew a few moments to respond before saying, “I mean I definitely don’t know what I’m doing here, and I don’t really understand it either, but I don’t want to ignore it. So are you completely off-limits or are there any safe zones?”

“What are you trying to accomplish here? Coordinates? Cartography lessons?”

“I’m hoping to know where the lines are before I cross them,” Neil said. “I know this is important to you, and so it is for me.”

“You know nothing.” That might be actually true, but Neil was a quick learner.

“I’m still waiting for an answer,” Neil said.

“So am I.”

Neil walked up to Andrew at the door. Andrew had to tilt his head to maintain eye contact. “I would kiss you back,” Neil said, and leaned in. He stopped shy of actually kissing Andrew, not daring to touch him until Andrew gave him his consent.

Andrew’s expression still didn’t change, but there was a subtle shift in his body’s tension that told Neil he’d gotten Andrew’s attention. Neil lifted a hand but stopped it a safe distance from Andrew’s face. Andrew caught his wrist and pushed it back down.

For a second Neil thought Andrew would push him away, but he didn’t. He grabbed Neil’s collar and turned them around, so Neil’s back was pressed against the door. He pulled Neil down and their lips met. Neil’s heart stuttered to a stop at the first hard press against his mouth and reached up with his hand without thinking. He made it almost to Andrew’s jaw but stopped himself there. Andrew let go of Neil’s collar, to hold the hand down. He stopped a breath away from Neil’s lips to say, “Stay.”

Neil felt Andrew’s finger lightly pressing against his throat and balled his hands into tight fists. The initial simple press of lips against lips turned into the scrape of teeth against Neil’s lower lip and the warm slide of a tongue against his. Neil could feel Andrew’s heartbeat drumming against his chest, the same fast rhythm that echoed in Neil’s veins.

How a man who viewed the world with such indifference could kiss like this, Neil didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to complain.

Neil realized how touch starved he actually was. A small pleased moan slipped free when Andrew’s hand found his hair and started to comb through it. He’d forgotten what body heat felt like, a touch without malicious intent.

And Neil finally understood why his mother had thought this was so dangerous. This was the worst kind of distraction, and also the best. It was letting his guard down, letting someone in, and taking comfort in something he shouldn’t have and couldn’t keep. But right now, Neil needed it too much to care.

Neil’s mouth was numb and his thoughts buzzed incoherently in his head by the time they broke apart to catch some air. He could feel Andrew’s nails digging in his nape and tasted the whiskey that Andrew had had for dinner. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t even have the breath to speak.

That was when suddenly a sharp knock came from behind Neil, somewhere over his left ear.

“Andrew? Are you still up?” Renee asked, voice muffled through the door. Neil and Andrew looked at each other, and Andrew studied Neil’s expression for a few seconds. It was long enough for him to give Neil a push to the bathroom. “Get your shit together,” he hissed before turning around to open the door.

Neil left the door to the bathroom slightly ajar and heard Renee entering. “Sorry for intruding,” she said.

“What do you want,” Andrew asked, his voice giving nothing away. If Neil hadn’t felt it for himself, he would think Andrew was completely unaffected by the whole encounter. Neil on the other hand looked exactly like he had just had an intense make-out session. In the bathroom mirror he could see his damp red lips and his flushed cheeks.

“I just wanted to drop these off. I hope you like them.” There was some rustling, but Andrew didn’t respond.

“Good night then,” Renee said and Neil heard the door fall shut after a few more seconds. When he emerged from the bathroom, Andrew held two armbands in his hand, which he threw carelessly on his bed. Neil saw the orange flame embroidery on them, not unlike the one on Wymack’s bangle.

“Oh, so you participate in our team bonding now?” Neil asked cheekily. “I thought you would maybe dye your hair or get a tattoo on your cheek.”

Andrew gave him an unimpressed look. “Shut up.”

To stop himself from smiling, Neil bit his lower lip, but felt his mouth still twitching. Andrew’s dull eyes got a shade darker and sharper. “Stop that,” he said and went over to hook two fingers under Neil’s collar. “Yes or no?”

“Huh? Yes?” Neil said perplexed. When Andrew let go of him with a huff, Neil finally understood and repeated insistently, “Yes. Yes!”

Andrew gave him a searching look, but after a moment he pulled Neil down for another kiss. This one was shorter and a lot less steamy. He pushed Neil eventually away and said, “Fuck off now. I’m tired.”

Neil, who had his hands stuffed in the back pockets of his pants, leaned away and balanced for a second on his heels, watching Andrew with a curious tilt of his head. “Okay,” he said and left without a second glance over his shoulder.

Back in his own room he stared at the half-moon marks he’d left on his palm. He was sure he still felt Andrew’s heartbeat against his chest when he went to bed.

 

During the other five days of training, Neil had lost all interest in making new allies. He stuck with his first choice of Matt, Dan, Niobe, Janie, and Sola. Wymack was not happy with the decision but he also realized how stubborn Neil was and gave up shortly after his tenth persuasion attempt.

The day before the last day of training and therefore their private sessions, Neil took Andrew to the camouflage station. The morphling woman was also there, like every other day. She watched them with her huge unblinking eyes, but Neil simply ignored her and started to randomly mix berry juice and mud together.

After a few minutes, Andrew swatted his hand away and instructed Neil to stretch out his arm. Neil did as he was told and watched in awe as Andrew actually managed to transform his arm into a tree branch with only mud and greens. They didn’t talk while Andrew was working and Neil could study his face for the very first time in peace. Without Andrew raising a mocking eyebrow or pushing Neil’s face away.

Neil found he wanted to kiss Andrew. They had kissed two more times in the past few days, but every time left Neil wanting more. It was such an unfamiliar and new feeling, he didn’t know how to react accordingly. Andrew seemed unfazed most times, but Neil had felt Andrew’s heartbeat in the fingers that had held Neil’s wrist over his head when Andrew had pushed him down on the bedroom floor. Touching was still something Andrew couldn’t allow, but Neil thought it was alright. He wouldn’t complain since he got a lot in return. After the last time, two days ago, he had found himself in a cold shower, though. And that was certainly uncharted territory for Neil.

“You’re staring,” Andrew said, not looking up from what he was doing.

“Where did you learn that?” Neil asked, swallowing the words he actually wanted to say. Or much rather what he wanted to do.

Andrew pointed at the morphling woman that was now painting a field of yellow flowers on her own arm. “I watched her.”

They hadn’t visited the station before today, but as always there wasn’t much that escaped Andrew. Neil looked back to his own arm and shook his head. “Impossible. That’s not something you learn from watching.”

“If you say so,” Andrew replied bored and released Neil’s arm. It was impressive, really. Neil put his arm against the branch that served as a model and it became impossible to tell what was actual bark and what Neil’s arm. Neil gave Andrew another scrutinizing look and said, “Do you paint?”

For some reason the idea of Andrew painting on canvas or drawing portraits was impossible, and the expression on Andrew’s face told as much. “Don’t use all your brain cells at once thinking too hard,” he said and stood up. He had his eyes somewhere else when he said, “I decorate the cakes sometimes.”

Of all things, that was even more surprising than the thought of Andrew painting fruit still life or District 12’s landscape. Neil recalled the cakes he had often seen in the baker’s window or the one’s Andrew brought with him. They looked amazing.

Without waiting for him to follow, Andrew went over to a station where a trainer gave fishing tips. He knew Neil would be close by anyway.

As the trainer was currently busy explaining to the District 8 tributes how to prepare a fish for cooking, Neil let his eyes wander. Matt and the sister from District 2 were both engaged in hand-to-hand combat with their trainers but spent more time jokingly insulting each other. Dan was showing Janie how to use an axe with little success and then there was Jean.

Jean had always been different from Kevin and Riko in their little victor’s exclusive group. Born and raised in District 4 he had learned how to fight as someone who spent more time in water than on land. Unlike Kevin and Riko who used the District 1 standard weapons, such as sword, spear and knives, he fought with a trident. Neil thought it was pretentious and would look pretty stupid if Jean wasn’t so incredibly good with it. And he was.

His trainer, armed with a longsword, had no chance. Neil couldn’t help his staring and when Jean noticed, he held Neil’s gaze. There was a challenge in it, but also something else. Biting his lip, Neil tried to suppress any affinity he might feel for Jean, just because he had almost shared the same fate as him. Sold and used as Moriyama property. Just because both of their parents were apparently failures in every way possible. Well, not Neil’s mother. She at least had chosen a life on the run, rather than selling her own son. Better late than never.

The trainer showed Neil a few simple ways to make a fishhook out of different kinds of material, for example an earring or a wishbone. It was annoying and a lot of fumbling and Neil was close to just throwing it away. It would be much easier to just catch the damn fish with his bare hands. Andrew only watching him in his struggling didn’t make it better.

He was just about to get up and leave the damn station when a hand reached for his sorry looking fishhook and finished it in a few, easy looking steps. Jean gave him a condescending look and said, “Better stay with your shooting.” He left before Neil could even think of responding. What a surprise, he was just as much of an asshole as Kevin.

 

The final day of training ended with their private sessions. Each of them got fifteen minutes before the Gamemakers to amaze them with some special skill. Neil had no idea what any of them might have to show them.

There was a lot of kidding about it at lunch. Sing, dance, tell jokes, strip. Seth told Dan that the latter would be her specialty which almost earned him a black eye from Matt. Dan held him back, though, and simply gave Seth a bored look that almost equaled Andrew in its disinterest.

Wymack had told them to surprise the Gamemakers, but since they had a force field now, Neil could hardly throw knives at Riko’s head again. No matter how much he wanted to. When he asked Andrew what he would do, he only stared at Neil with his impassive eyes and shrugged after a long silence.

Just like last year, Neil was scheduled to go last. The dining room got quieter and quieter as the tributes filed out to go and perform. It was easier to keep up the irreverent, invincible manner they all had adopted when there were more of them. As people disappeared through the door, all Neil could think was that they had a matter of days to live. He would try to stay alive as long as possible, but there was no way two victors would emerge from the arena this time. And if it could only be one it was supposed to be Andrew.

Maybe it was good Andrew actually hated him and his interest in Neil was purely physical. This way he could walk away from Neil’s death unaffected, maybe angry because he was an eye for an eye kind of guy.

Finally, he and Andrew were left alone. Neil started to jiggle nervously with his leg until Andrew pressed a hand on his thigh to keep him still. The touch sent a jolt through Neil’s spine and he stared straight ahead, biting his lip.

“Stop it,” Andrew said.

Puzzled, Neil glanced at him. “What?”

“I told you, it’s distracting.”

Neil touched his lips with his fingers and was suddenly keenly aware of the phantom feeling of Andrew’s lips against them. His eyes flickered towards Andrew who was looking as bored as ever. Exactly what Neil needed right now, to think about Andrew’s body pressed against his own while he was supposed to impress Riko and Kevin. Maybe he would just sit down and do nothing. Contemplate the last kiss shared between them three days ago. Not that Neil was keeping tab on when they found the time to do it, or anything.

They called Andrew, so Neil waited by himself. His thoughts wandered to something he could do, but knife throwing or shooting arrows was nothing new anymore. Fifteen minutes passed and it was Neil’s turn.

When he went in, he noticed the mood was very different from last year’s, when the Gamemakers had been half drunk and distracted by the food and themselves. Now they whispered among themselves, except Riko and Kevin.

Riko’s eyes were fixated on Neil, his smile threatening and he certainly enjoyed seeing Neil beneath him. This time he would make sure to kill Neil. He was the Head Gamemaker and Neil a mere tribute. What could Neil do to him? He had all the advantages, he knew about his father, his past, and even his future now. Riko was oh so powerful here, so removed, so safe…

Suddenly Neil knew what he was going to do. He went over to the knot-tying station and got a length of rope. He started to manipulate it, but it was hard because he had never made this actual knot himself. He had only watched Andrew’s clever fingers, and they had moved so fast.

After about ten minutes, Neil came up with a respectable noose. He dragged one of the target dummies out into the middle of the room and, using some chinning bars, hung it so it dangled by the neck. Then he hurried over to the camouflage station where he found a container of blood-red berry juice that was so ironically fitting, Neil had to force the smile from his face. The flesh-colored fabric of the dummy’s skin made a good, absorbent canvas.

Neil carefully finger-painted the words on its body, concealing them from view. Then he stepped away quickly to watch the reaction on the Gamemakers’, on Riko’s and Kevin’s faces as they read the name on the dummy.

Tetsuji Moriyama.

The effect on the Gamemakers was immediate and satisfying. Several let out small shrieks. Others lost their grips on their wine glasses, which shattered dramatically against the ground. Kevin looked so pale, Neil was sure he was about to faint.

And Riko. Neil might not survive the first day in the arena now, but the smug look was wiped from his face, replaced by absolute hatred. He had crushed a pencil with his hands and for a second Neil thought he would come down and kill Neil right here and now.

Neil gave them all a respectful nod and turned to leave. At the last moment he couldn’t resist tossing the container of berry juice over his shoulder, and he heard the contents splatter against the dummy while a couple more wine glasses broke. As the elevator doors closed before Neil, he saw no one had moved. His father’s smile spread over his face as he watched Riko turning on Kevin, giving free rein to his rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh I realized I basically wrote the make-out scene from the book.... But I just have no idea how to write stuff like that :'D I'm going to experiment with it in further chapters (whaaaaat more smooches???) and well. We'll see.  
> Also the next chapter can take a little longer for me to finish because I have to find a way for Neil to stage a rebellion without wearing a wedding dress that turns into a fox and Andrew announcing Neil's pregnancy. Stay tuned!


	16. Warpath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much thanks to my [beta](http://marbledmaven.tumblr.com/). I swear I make so many stupid mistakes, it's incredible.  
> This chapter is basically all the stuff I wanted to squeeze in before they enter the arena so mostly soft moments. In the middle everyone has to calm down a little but eh. Whatever.

It had been rash and dangerous and no doubt Neil would pay for it ten times over. But for the moment, he felt something close to elation and he let himself savor it.

When he reached their floor, no one was around. Neil guessed they were getting ready for dinner and he decided to take a shower since his hands were still stained from the berry juice. As he stood in the water, he began to wonder about the wisdom of his latest trick.

The question that should now always be his guide was “Will this help Andrew stay alive?” Indirectly, this might not. What happened in training was highly secretive, so there was no point in taking action against Neil when no one would know what his transgression had been. In fact, last year they had rewarded him for his brashness.

This was a different sort of crime, though. Riko was certainly livid and would punish him in the arena, which meant Andrew could get caught up in the attack as well. Maybe it had been too impulsive. Still, Neil couldn’t say he was sorry he had done it. Let Kevin suffer the consequences for now.

They all gathered for dinner, and for a few minutes Wymack, Renee, Allison and Roland acted as if it was an ordinary day and none of them were dying to ask Andrew and Neil about their private sessions.

Once the soup was served, Wymack got right to the issue on everyone’s mind, though. “Alright, so how did your private sessions go?”

Neil glanced over to Andrew. Somehow he wasn’t that eager to put what he had done into words. In the calm of the dining room, it seemed very extreme. “You first,” he said to Andrew.

Andrew gave him a flat look in return, but put his spoon down and said, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” echoed Allison doubtfully. Andrew was apparently convinced the conversation was over as he picked up the spoon again to eat his soup. Wymack watched him a few seconds before saying in a dangerously calm voice, “Andrew.”

“What do you mean nothing?” Renee cut in, trying to defuse the built up tension. Andrew stopped eating and gave them all looks as if they were stupid. “Nothing,” he said, “as in I lay down on a mat for fifteen minutes and waited.”

There was a long pause at the table while everyone absorbed this. “And what exactly were you trying to accomplish?” Wymack asked, still in a very measured voice.

“Nothing,” Andrew answered truthfully.

It was Allison who managed to break through the tense atmosphere. She snorted and tried to hide it behind a glass of wine. At Wymack’s admonishing look she shrugged defensively. “What? It’s a funny image!” It really was, no wonder the Gamemakers had been whispering among themselves upon Neil’s entry. Andrew had made them look silly. Again.

Wymack only shook his head while Renee and Roland remained silent. It was obvious that they were amused, though.

“I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Tetsuji Moriyama’s name on it,” Neil said. It had the desired effect. After a moment of disbelief, all the disapproval in the room hit him like a ton of bricks.

“You… hung… Tetsuji Moriyama?” said Roland.

“Yes. I was showing off my new knot-tying skills, and he somehow ended up at the end of the noose,” Neil replied.

“Oh, Neil,” said Allison, conflicted whether to look horrified or proud.

Wymack simply lifted his hands, showing his palms to Neil and Andrew, and said, “That’s it. I’m washing my hands of you. I won’t be responsible for you killing off any of my friends with your stupidity.”

“That’s unfair, Coach. I didn’t do anything,” Andrew complained in his bored voice.

“Exactly,” was the only response he got, and they finished the meal in silence.

When they rose to go into the sitting room, Roland put his arm around Neil and gave him a squeeze. “Come on and let’s go get those training scores.” He grinned at Andrew who watched them, and Neil was pulled to one of the sofas.

They gathered around the television set, and district by district flashed by, the scores under their pictures. One through twelve. Predictably high scores for Titus, Jean, the siblings from 2, and District 4. Low to medium for the rest.

“Have they ever given a zero?” Neil asked.

“No, but there’s a first time for everything,” Roland answered.

And it turned out he was right. Because when Andrew and Neil each pulled a twelve, they made Hunger Games history. No one felt like celebrating, though.

“Why did they do that?” Neil asked.

“So that the others will have no choice but to target you.” Wymack pressed his thumb and forefinger against his temples. “Go to bed. I can’t stand to look at either one of you.”

Andrew walked Neil down to his room in silence, but before he could leave, Neil asked, “Do you want to come in?” The look Andrew gave him just then made Neil’s cheeks burn, and he quickly added, “If you want to, I mean. We could uh… talk.”

“Talk.” The single eyebrow he raised at Neil made Neil press his lips tightly together, positive in never opening them ever again. Andrew let him squirm a few more seconds before slightly inclining his head, which Neil took as agreement.

In his room, Neil leaned against the closed door and watched as Andrew took everything in. Apart from the orange fox paw pin he had nothing personal lying around and soon Andrew’s eyes returned to the only remotely interesting thing in the room. Truth to be told, Neil actually wanted to talk about something. He bit his lip, but stopped when he saw Andrew slightly narrowing his eyes.

“I—” he started, but broke off. He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and started all over again. “Do you think the Moriyama’s have probably given direct orders to make sure we die in the arena no matter what we are doing?”

Andrew was silent for a long time. “It’s crossed my mind,” he said eventually.

Neil nodded. It had crossed his mind, too. But while he knew he would never leave the arena alive, he was still holding on to the hope that Andrew would. After all, he hadn’t enraged and ridiculed the Capitol, Neil had. Ichirou had never doubted Andrew’s indifference towards any kind of rebellion, and his ability to show as much to the people in the districts. So maybe Ichirou and his father would prefer keeping Andrew alive, crushed from the arena, as a living warning to others. They had no idea, however, that there was nothing that could ever crush Andrew.

The irony of the whole situation was that Neil’s decision to keep Andrew alive at the expense of his own life was itself an act of defiance. A refusal to play the Hunger Games by the Capitol rules. In terms of a revolution, that would be ideal. As always, Neil was more valuable dead. They could turn his death into that of a martyr and maybe, just maybe that was enough to see the Capitol, the Moriyamas, his father and his people, burn. Of course, he wouldn’t get to see any of it, but Andrew would. He could slit Luther’s throat himself. He could return to his brother and cousin, and the family he had made out of Wymack, Betsy, Renee and Abby.

“You are thinking something stupid again,” Andrew interrupted him, suddenly much closer than just a few moments ago. It took Neil’s breath away in surprise, and the “yes” to Andrew’s question came out instantly if a little wheezy.

With Andrew’s hands on his naked arms and his mouth captured between bites and kisses, Neil couldn’t even remember what his last coherent thought had been. He clawed to the inside of his pockets so his hands wouldn’t even twitch, not if Andrew was still checking from time to time if he was staying put. Andrew swallowed every little moan with his tongue and expertly undid Neil beneath him.

Later, after Andrew had left, Neil had to take another shower, cold this time, no amount of water could wash the hot sensation of Andrew’s mouth and fingers off him.

That night he dreamed of Riko stringing him up on a tree, his mouth and teeth red from berry juice or blood, while whistling repeatedly Robin’s four tune melody. When Neil turned his head, he saw her sitting on the branch above him, her dark eyes big and alert. She pressed a finger to her lips to signal him to be quiet, then she pointed down. Neil tried to see what she was pointing at, but suddenly something grabbed his legs and pulled him down. The rope was scraping the skin around his throat bloody. He woke with a start just the second he looked into his father’s eyes.

Neil lay there for a while, panting and trying to organize his thoughts. Today he had no rush to begin the day. Tomorrow night would be the televised interview, so Allison and Wymack would be coaching him and Andrew all day long.

But then someone knocked and one of the Avox servants came in. Thankfully not the man Neil’s father had mutilated. He had a note from Allison saying that, given Andrew’s and Neil’s recent tour, she, Renee and Wymack had agreed they could handle themselves adequately in public (as long as Neil could hold his tongue). The coaching sessions had been cancelled.

That meant he and Andrew had the whole day to themselves.

Neil got up to find the others for breakfast, but found all the communal spaces deserted. He even went to Wymack’s and Allison’s bedrooms, but no one answered upon his knocking. Apparently everyone had left the suite.

Neil tried his luck with Andrew next, because as a fellow tribute he couldn’t even leave the floor, so he had to be in his room or on the roof. Andrew answered after Neil’s first knock, hair sleep ruffled and still wearing his pajama pants and a rumpled shirt. His armbands he wore, though. Neil wondered if he wore them, even when he slept alone.

“What,” Andrew asked, never using inflection so his questions sounded more like demands.

“Do you want to have breakfast? Apparently we have a day off and no one’s around,” Neil said.

Andrew crossed his arms over his chest. “You really have to learn to be alone more.”

“I already know how to be alone, and believe it or not I even prefer your company over it,” Neil said and gave Andrew an unimpressed looked. “You coming?”

Andrew stared at him for a minute or so, before saying, “Wait here.” He shut the door in Neil’s face and five minutes late he emerged, hair tamed and in fresh clothes.

It was somehow an unsaid agreement between them that they would eat on the roof. The day was nice enough, and while Neil actually enjoyed Andrew’s company over the notion of being alone, he didn’t want prying Capitol eyes spying on them every second. They ordered a bunch of food, grabbed some blankets, and headed up to the roof for some sort of picnic.

It turned out to be daylong picnic between the flower pots on the roof and close to the railing. They ate. They kissed. Neil lay in the sun while inhaling the smoke from Andrew’s cigarette. After a while he snapped off hanging vines and used his newfound knowledge from training to practice knots with a few unhelpful comments from Andrew. They made up a game with the force field that surrounded the roof – Andrew threw an apple into it and Neil had to catch it.

No one bothered them. By late afternoon, Neil rested with his head on their rolled-up jackets, close to Andrew’s hip, and watched the smoke escaping from Andrew’s mouth. He didn’t look at Neil, but from time to time he would press his finger in Neil’s cheek so he had to turn his head away.

“Is there anything you’re afraid of?” Neil asked then, not sure where the question even came from. He had wondered about it a few times, mostly after Drake’s assault and Andrew’s unaffected reaction to it. But in the last few weeks, even months, he hardly had had the time to think about anything else than how to please Ichirou, and when that had failed, how to keep Andrew out of the crossfire. After a day of doing nothing, not being forced to fulfill any expectations, Neil felt… warm. So relaxed in fact, that his mind was trying to fill the blanks it had regarding Andrew.

Andrew glanced down at him, in the afternoon light his eyes looked like dark honey. “Heights,” he said, stubbing out the cigarette on the wall behind him.

“Are you kidding me?” Neil asked disbelievingly, examining Andrew’s face that didn’t betray anything. He didn’t react to Neil’s accusation, simply kept his eyes straight ahead, gazing into space. And Neil realized, he was not kidding. Not if he thought about Andrew vehemently opposing the idea of sleeping in trees in the arena, even though it had been the safest place.

Neil frowned. “Andrew, what are you doing on the roof then?”

Andrew didn’t answer immediately, but the tilt of his head to one side said he was thinking about it. Neil couldn’t tell if he was searching for words or just the ones he wanted to give Neil in explanation. Finally he lifted a hand to his own throat and felt for his pulse. After a moment he reached for Neil’s as well, comparing their rhythm. Neil’s heart jumped at the simple touch, but then he saw Andrew’s finger tapping equally fast against his own throat.

“Feeling,” Andrew said at last.

Neil wanted to ask if he was trying to feel fear, or anything at all. But he remembered Andrew’s heartbeat against his own skin, not as steady as Andrew often liked to make it out to be. So he kept silent for a while, before asking, “Yes or no?”

He felt Andrew shift besides him, then there was a hand on his head, fingers curling in his hair and Andrew bent down until their foreheads were almost touching. Neil noticed Andrew’s eyes darting to where Neil’s hands lay folded on his stomach. He didn’t move until Andrew finally said, “Yes.”

When they later joined the others for dinner, Neil’s cheeks were hot and flushed from lying all day in the sun. Well, mostly. Andrew who had mostly kept to the shadows gave him a pointed look which Neil ignored. Roland pursed his lips unhappily when he saw it. “Don’t take your healthy skin for granted,” he said.

“My skin got almost melted off my face, I guess I can handle a sunburn,” Neil replied. Maybe it was a little childish, but honestly. His skin was the least of his worries.

Dinner Neil spent silently, content with just listening to Allison, Renee and Roland chatting. Afterwards he decided to take a shower, to wash the day off his body. Andrew stayed behind with Roland to talk about something, so he went to his room alone.

He wasn’t really tired, but the thought of tomorrow made his insides churn with anxiety. He crawled between the sheets, not trying to sleep but to force his thoughts to calm down. His damp hair left spots on the cool pillow, so he tried to concentrate of that feeling.

Last year the interview had laid the foundation to everything that had gone wrong with Neil’s life after the Games. Uprisings, maybe even rebellion, Ichirou threatening him, and eventually his return as a tribute to the Capitol. It was almost like the universe wanted him dead. If not through his father’s hand, then through Riko’s. Neil found he would prefer someone who wouldn’t be so damn smug about it.

His hair had only dried on one side when there was a single rap at his door. It wasn’t Allison’s fast and demanding knock, and no one else had ever wanted something from him when he was in his room.

Neil pushed the covers aside and padded barefooted over to the door to investigate.

Andrew stood in the hallway, hands in the pockets of his pants. Neil blinked, but opened the door wider and stepped out of the way. Andrew entered and they remained like that for a moment, Neil still holding the door handle even though he had already closed it, and Andrew with his back to him.

“Everyone went to bed,” Andrew said.

Neil accepted that wordlessly, not sure what Andrew was trying to say. When Andrew turned around and his eyes flickered to Neil’s lips, it dawned on Neil. No one would disturb them tonight anymore. They were in Neil’s room, alone. Their last kiss had been only a few hours ago, but Neil couldn’t help the eager rush in his gut. He wanted this. As long as he could still have it, he wanted it.

It took two steps to close the small space between them and Andrew stopped as close as he could get without actually leaning against Neil. His fingers felt warm when he curled them around Neil’s chin.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked.

“Yes,” Neil said.

Automatically, Neil stuffed his hands in his pockets and held still, so Andrew could kiss him. He stopped thinking about tomorrow, about the interview, about the arena and Riko, and let Andrew kiss him senseless. He was lightheaded and unsteady by the time Andrew pressed his other hand flat against Neil’s abdomen. Even with the shirt preventing actual skin contact, Neil felt the excited tremble that ran from his chest downwards.

Andrew noticed as well and he stopped kissing. He looked down to where Neil’s hands were clenched into tights fists, so he would keep them where they were. Neil wondered if Andrew wanted to stop, but when he looked back up to Neil, he saw an expression that indicated the opposite. A little bolder after a few times of being pressed against the closest hard surface, Neil kissed Andrew’s neck, hoping to distract him, to make him continue. He was rewarded with a startled jolt. That was enough reason to do it again.

Andrew pushed his face away, and started to back him into the wall, but they were close enough for Neil to not to miss the way he shivered. Before he could say anything, Andrew kissed him again.

He pushed Neil harder into the wall, hands roaming over Neil’s shirt from shoulders to waist and back again. Neil had felt his hands on his skin before, on his bare arms, the one time, right after the Games when he had demanded to see every little scar. But this felt completely different, even through the fabric of the shirt, his hands felt heavy and hot. He was mapping out Neil’s body, every little inch under the press of demanding fingers. Heat was curling through Neil’s veins, like so often when Andrew touched him.

It made Neil twitchy, made him lean a little deeper into Andrew’s kisses and let the few moans he could muster slip shamelessly. When Andrew kissed along his jaw and back to his mouth, Neil was too aware of his fingernails biting into the flesh of his palms. He wanted to touch Andrew. He wanted to feel and memorize Andrew’s body the way he was doing with his. He wanted to find all the places that made Andrew give ground.

He hadn’t said anything, but as if on cue Andrew followed Neil’s arms down to his wrists and poked his fingers into Neil’s pockets. Neil guessed he was making sure Neil’s hands were still there, but Andrew caught hold of his wrists instead. After a moment of consideration, where they stopped kissing and both caught some breath, Andrew pulled Neil’s hands free and held them up to his head.

“Just here,” he said, eyes intense.

“Okay.” Neil dug his fingers into Andrew’s hair as soon as his grip went slack. I was the first time Andrew had allowed any touch, and Neil was desperate to find some relief in having something to hold onto. It was much easier now to pull Andrew into another kiss.

Andrew slowly placed his outstretched palm against Neil’s chest. He stayed like this for a while, testing Neil’s control. Neil was content in just kissing their mouths numb, ignoring the familiar rush in his belly that told him he would need another shower later.

Andrew’s hand between his legs was an unexpected weight. Neil didn’t realize how tight he had twisted his fingers in Andrew’s hair until Andrew bit his lower lip in warning. Neil muttered something, then moaned when he felt Andrew’s hand growing insistent over the zipper of Neil’s pants. He forced himself to loosen the death grip on Andrew’s hair and had to bite his own lip when Andrew undid his button and zipper. For a second Neil thought he tasted blood, but it was fleeting if anything, quickly forgotten.

Andrew wasn’t gentle, and Neil didn’t expect or want him to be. It was ruthless, almost angry, Andrew’s hand taking Neil as far and fast as possible. Neil tried pressing closer, but Andrew kept his hand flat on Neil’s chest to keep space between their bodies. Neil was holding onto Andrew as much as he was allowed to and barely managed Andrew’s name, before Andrew pushed him over the edge and kept going. He was frantically gasping which Andrew swallowed with a last hard kiss and finally let go of him.

They simply stood cheek-to-cheek for a few seconds, or a few years, Neil shivering and feeling almost overstimulated. Only slowly he regained his composure, and the first thing he noticed was how tight Andrew’s fingers were digging into his chest. Neil tried to look down, but Andrew pushed him against the wall in response.

“What about—” Neil started.

Andrew interrupted him with a low, “No.”

Neil flexed his fingers in Andrew’s hair, fixing his grip so he could tug Andrew into a short kiss. Andrew permitted it only for a moment before leaning back. He wiped his hand on Neil’s shirt before tugging at Neil’s wrists. Obediently, he let go of Andrew and didn’t miss the way Andrew watched him lower his hands. He tucked them behind his back, so Andrew wouldn’t have to worry about any touching, accidentally or not. Andrew took a step back and dropped his hands.

“Go away,” he said.

“Where?” Neil asked.

“Anywhere I can’t see you,” Andrew said.

Neil wouldn’t live long enough to understand all the broken layers of Andrew’s sexuality, but he knew better than to be offended by that dismissal. He walked past Andrew to his wardrobe and grabbed a fresh shirt and some random pajama pants, then went into the bathroom where he closed the door. He couldn’t help but feel his swollen lower lip. The skin was indeed broken and he winced a little at the sting.

After peeling his shirt over his head, he threw it carelessly in a corner. He grimaced at the mess in his boxer shorts, but since he had forgotten to bring a fresh pair along, he simply traded his pants for the pajama ones. He washed his hands and risked a quick glance in the mirror.

Maybe it was good no one would get to see him today anymore. He couldn’t tell if the red in his face was the sun’s doing or Andrew’s. He turned around and leaned against the sink to wait. For a second he thought Andrew might have simply left, before he heard a knock at the door. He let Andrew in and stepped out without another word. The door fell shut and the key was turned in the lock.

Unsure what to do, Neil took advantage of the moment alone and changed his underwear as well. Then he sat down on his bed, staring at the fox paw pin that looked so innocent and unremarkable, except for the hideous orange.

When Andrew returned, he didn’t look up to Neil as he was adjusting his armbands. The ones with the orange flame pattern. Neil gave him a quick once-over, he looked calm and clean, like nothing had ever happened. After Andrew was done fumbling around he simply went to the door. He didn’t look back or say a word when he left for real now. Neil watched the door click shut and collapsed on the bed.

That night he couldn’t even remember who the Moriyamas were or that his father wanted him dead.

The next morning, Neil was roused by Allison and her sharp knocking. He barely had time for breakfast before Roland ordered him around how he had to wash up today. He had to coordinate between Andrew and Neil again, so Allison volunteered to check Neil’s nails and eyebrows. She was a lot less gentle than Roland, even if Neil thought it impossible. He was certain she was ripping just as much skin as hair out.

By the time Roland showed up, Neil was sure he was raw and bloody. Allison left to prepare herself for tonight, so Neil and Roland were once again alone. He examined Neil’s face and nodded satisfied. “I still have to use make-up on that sunburn, but it’s not too bad. Allison would have been a great stylist.”

Neil only nodded, he wasn’t really qualified to argue about this anyway. His eyes fell on the garment bag in Roland’s hand. “Are you forcing me into one of those second-skin shirts again?”

“Riko Moriyama put in your suit order himself,” said Roland. He unzipped the bag, revealing a silky black suit with a blood red tie. “He says you’re to wear it tonight. Our objections were ignored.”

Neil recognized the suit. It was exactly the same ensemble Riko had worn to his interview for his Games. And after him Kevin. And after Kevin, Jean. The only thing missing was the number four tattooed on Neil’s face.

“He can’t do anything, Neil. You don’t have to do what he wants,” Roland insisted. “You’re already going into the arena. And he’s just Head Gamemaker, his own family doesn’t want to associate with him.”

Neil rubbed a bit of the tie’s silk between his fingers. If he went on stage wearing this, no one would take him serious as an instigator of a rebellion anymore. He couldn’t be marked any clearer as one of the Capitol’s beloved victor group. Led by Kengo Moriyama’s son. Of course this wouldn’t save him in the arena now. But maybe it would appease Riko enough for Neil to find a way Andrew could survive.

“Whatever, it’s just clothes. Nothing to get angry over,” he told Roland.

Roland sighed. “Good thing I always channel my emotions into my work. That way I don’t hurt anyone but myself. Even though I’m really tempted this time.”

He helped Neil carefully into the expensive suit. As Roland fixed the tie and collar, Neil couldn’t help giving a shrug of complaint. “Are they always this heavy?” he asked.

“I had to make some slight alterations because of the lighting,” said Roland. Neil nodded, but he couldn’t see what that had to do with anything. Roland touched up Neil’s make-up, the standard one with powder and the black pencil for his eyes.

Roland eyed him up and down. “You look perfect, even in those clothes,” he said. “Now, Neil, it’s going to be extremely hot under the spotlight, and the fabric will not let your skin breathe. I don’t want you sweating there on stage and looking like a complete madman. Once you’re on stage, take off the jacket.”

“Okay?” Neil agreed, puzzled.

“Good. Any plans for your interview? I know Wymack and Renee left you two to your own devices,” Roland said.

“No, this year I’m just winging it. Maybe I’ll do it like Andrew and say nothing at all, except for a meaningful sentence in the end.” He looked Roland straight in the eyes and said in a deep voice to imitate Andrew’s badly, “Because I promised him.”

Roland laughed. “I’m sure you will surprise us all.”

They met up with Allison, Wymack, Renee and Andrew at the elevator. Andrew was in a simple black suit, unmistakably Roland’s choice. Allison gave Neil a woeful shake of her head. “How does it feel being courted by a psychopath with a father-complex?” she asked.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Wymack answered in Neil’s stead. He looked like he was already missing some strong alcohol to deal with this evening.

 

The other tributes had already gathered backstage and were talking softly, but when Andrew and Neil arrived, they fell silent. Neil realized everyone was staring at his get-up. It was Seth’s hysterical laugh that broke the moment. “Now would you look at that! Mini-Day in making! Hey Moreau, you into that twin shit?”

Jean’s pale face appeared somewhat horrified. He wore the exact same suit as Neil, from the tie to the shoes. And when Neil looked at him, he saw once again what could have been. Jean was like a constant reminder of what Neil had barely escaped from.

“I can’t believe Roland put you into that,” Matt muttered, perplexed.

“He didn’t have any choice. Riko made him,” Neil said defensively. He wouldn’t let anyone blame Roland.

The sister, Epona, from District 2 tossed her flowing blonde curls back and spat out, “This is ridiculous!” She grabbed her brother’s hand and pulled him into place as third and fourth in line. The others lined up as well, but Dan and Matt gave him sympathetic pats on his shoulder before following them. Dan adjusted his tie and said, “Make him pay for it, okay?”

It was still ten minutes before the first tribute would go on stage and from then on Neil had to wait another sixty-nine minutes before he could be over and done with this whole ordeal. He was already anxious and his usual trick of counting from hundred backwards didn’t help much. He tried watching Andrew instead. As usual, Andrew was unaffected by everything that was going on around him. He leaned with his back against the wall and looked at the monitor that broadcasted the audience filling in, chattering excitedly.

When Neil saw him like this, he remembered the feeling of Andrew’s quickened breath against his throat, the startled jolt when Neil had kissed his neck. And Neil went from anxiously nervous, to completely restless.

So it was no wonder he almost jumped to the ceiling when someone grabbed his arm from behind. Neil thought he had déjà vu when Kevin looked at him sternly. Neil wrestled himself free from Kevin’s grip and hissed, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Let’s make this quick,” he hissed back urgently, “Don’t make this any harder on you than you have to. The shit you pulled in your private session? Don’t do _anything_ like that tonight. He will kill you right away.”

“Should have thought about that before sending me back to the arena, huh?” Neil replied snappily.

“I’m not—”

“Kevin, Kevin, you are so predictable,” Riko said from behind him. Immediately Kevin straightened himself and stepped out of Riko’s way. Riko smiled when he saw Neil. He laid a hand on Kevin’s shoulder, for anyone else it looked like brotherly affection, but this close Neil could see the tension in Kevin’s body. “He always gets attached so quickly, right Kevin?” Riko said tauntingly. “And he never gets lucky. Don’t forget what happened with Jeremy.”

Kevin swallowed visibly. Tired of Riko’s oppression and Kevin’s liquid spine, Neil said, “I don’t know what happened to Jeremy.” The name didn’t ring anything with Neil, it must have been something that had happened after his escape. Riko considered him a moment, and let go of Kevin. “Ah, how could you? After Kevin’s little friend Nathaniel left, he was heartbroken! Such a betrayal! So he cried himself out on our newest recruits shoulder. And you know what happened then?” Riko smiled, obviously enjoying Kevin’s squirming and misery. “Jeremy ran away, the little rebel idiot. Thought he could make it on his own in the wilderness. Now, tell us Kevin, what happens to people that run and get caught.”

Kevin was so pale now, Neil was sure he couldn’t say a word even if he wanted to. But he managed to grit out the words, “The Butcher.” Neil’s stomach dropped. Riko was now practically wallowing in Kevin’s pain as he said, “So where is Jeremy?”

Kevin looked away, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Dead.”

Dismissing Kevin since he was no longer a source of entertainment, Riko stepped up to Neil. In the next second Neil felt Andrew brushing against his shoulder.

“Call your guard dog off, or I will have to put him down,” Riko warned, voice amused. Neil felt like throwing up, right on Riko’s expensive shoes. When no one reacted, Riko tried another approach. “Let’s have a quick chat, shall we? I have some news about your father.”

“Neil—” Andrew started, but Neil shook his head. His father was the best threat Riko had against him. He wasn’t yet in the arena, so there was still a way for his father to get to him. And Andrew.

He stepped with Riko a few meters away, Andrew’s eyes resting heavily on him. The second they were more or less out of earshot, Riko instantly invaded Neil’s personal space. Neil still expected him to stink like his rotten insides, but instead there was a clean, spicy scent on him, that made Neil gag.

“I’m glad you finally learned to listen to your master, Nathaniel.” He let Neil’s tie slip through his loose grip.

“You and your power plays are really pathetic. I can see why no one wants to give you real access to the family,” Neil said.

Rikos hand moved so fast, Neil couldn’t even react before his wrist was in a death grip, and Riko gave it a brutal twist that sent knives up Neil’s arm. Neil choked on a pained curse and grabbed Riko’s arm to stop him. He couldn’t pry Riko’s hand off but if Riko turned his wrist another half-inch he’d break something. Every time Neil blinked he saw the white scars on Kevin’s hand, and he understood.

Unintentionally, his eyes darted to where Andrew stood and couldn’t see what Riko was doing. Riko followed his look and smiled. Neil shivered involuntarily at the sight of it. Riko let go of him but Neil couldn’t move at the sight of the smile, much less at Riko’s next words.

“Did you know one of your sponsors has been missing since last winter? Apparently he was also your guard dog’s foster brother. When I heard that they had parted on such bad terms, I couldn’t help contacting him.” Neil’s head started spinning.

“Drake is such an interesting man, don’t you think?” Riko asked, almost grinning now. “And so full of brotherly love. Does he like to do the same to you now? I heard that happens, something like a vicious cycle.”

Neil didn’t have any words, so he answered with his fist. He didn’t have a lot of room to swing but he made do and caught Riko right in his vulgar mouth. It knocked Riko back a step, giving Neil a little more space, and Neil caught him in the eye next. He lunged forward and slammed into Riko, but Riko was already moving to meet him. Before they could clash together, though, Neil was pulled from the line of fire and Riko ran into nothing.

Andrew’s grip would surely leave a bruise, so tight it felt. Riko scrambled to his feet, Kevin right by his side but was pushed away. He looked honestly insane just then, like he was losing his actual mind and would attack with killing attempt. Completely indifferent to his surroundings and the consequences. But then he simply pointed his finger at Neil and said, “I am going to crush him. And you will watch every second of it, before it’s your turn.”

Neil said nothing, he couldn’t since Andrew’s hand was clamped over his mouth. So all he could do was watch Riko retreat with an anxious Kevin following him.

“Can I let you go or are you going to fight Ichirou next?” Andrew asked, lips close to Neil’s ear. For a second Neil thought he couldn’t control himself, but he nodded eventually.

“Lucky he didn’t get you, too, or Wymack would have a breakdown if he saw you on stage with a black eye.” Andrew fixed Neil’s rumpled appearance with a few easy touches, all the while Neil could barely let go of his anger. It was boiling hot in his veins, polluting his whole system. Andrew pushed him back to the line of tributes.

“You okay?” Matt asked, voice worried.

“I’m fine,” Neil gritted out, not even trying to keep up his appearance. Matt left it at a meaningful exchange of looks with Dan, and then it was already time for Titus to take the stage.

 

As the tributes began their interviews, Neil realized for the first time the depth of the betrayal felt among the victors and the rage that accompanied it. Not everyone, though. Titus for example was just here for another year of Games, not really caring how and why. Jean was obviously too afraid to attack the Moriyamas or the government. Others were too baffled or drugged or lost to join in.

Epona started the ball rolling with a speech about how much the people in the Capitol must be suffering because they would lose them. Her brother recalled the kindness shown here to him and his sister. Sola questioned the legality of the Anniversary Games in his nervous, twitchy way, wondering if it had been fully examined by experts of late.

Matt was a natural with Kathy and the crowd. He reminded Neil of Amal, with his easygoing smile and good-natured bantering. But anyone could see that he was preoccupied, so Kathy turned the conversation around. “So, Matt, what was it like when you found out about the Anniversary Year? You won the last, and now you are part of this one as well.”

“Honestly? I was shocked. One moment I was preparing everything for my future, the move to District 7, the wedding plans, and also I thought about adopting a dog!”

A murmur went through the crowd that got steadily louder. Kathy looked dumbfounded for a second, but was quick to recover. “Wedding?” she asked promptly.

It was amazing how well Matt played his role. He grinned sheepishly while rubbing his palms over his thighs as if he were actually nervous. “Yes, I proposed to Dan in February. We wanted to celebrate in the Capitol, of course. With all of you!” He gave the audience a big smile but managed to keep the sad look in his eyes. Neil was impressed. Not even his mother could have played that card better. The people were actually crying, maybe realizing for the first time that their favorite victor couple would actually fight to the death now. All of a sudden Neil and Andrew were not the only match made in heaven that was brutally ripped apart.

Kathy, with fake tears in her eyes, kissed Dan on both cheeks to ask her about the supposed wedding. Dan calmly ruminated about how, back in District 7, everyone assumed President Moriyama was all-powerful. So if he was all-powerful, why didn’t he change the Anniversary Games? She insisted now that he had seen the reactions he could simply call it off, maybe find another twist, so the Capitol wouldn’t lose so many of their precious victors and could see her in the wedding dress she had already ordered.

The people were still weeping when it was finally Seth’s turn to go.

Kathy only took one look at him and said, “We have seen a lot of tears here tonight. But not yours, Seth. You are angry. Tell me why.”

He scoffed at her. “Well, fucking yes, I’m angry. You know I’m totally getting screwed over here, right?” Kathy could barely follow what he was saying, before he continued, “The deal was that if I win the fucking Hunger Games, I get to live the rest of my life in peace.” He pointed a finger at the Gamemakers’ balcony, right at Kevin and Riko. “But now you fuckers want to kill me again, but you know what?” Seth turned to the audience, showing them both of his middle fingers and shouted, “FUCK YOU AND FUCK EVERYBODY WHO HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT!”

The audience gasped in shock and two guards came on stage to escort Seth down who shouted more obscenities at the Gamemakers.

By the time Andrew was introduced, the crowd was an absolute wreck. People had been weeping and collapsing and even calling for change. Andrew took all of that in with a detached disinterest. This time he completely ignored Kathy Ferdinand’s offered hand and simply sat down. Kathy appeared to be irritated for a moment, but joined him with her big scary smile.

“Andrew. Andrew, Andrew, Andrew,” she said. “You barely had a year with Neil and now—” She couldn’t even finish her sentence as Andrew simply stood up and walked away. Even Kathy’s professional façade cracked at such a blunt display of disrespect. She and the whole studio gaped at Andrew’s retreating form. He didn’t even glance over his shoulder.

For a moment there was complete silence, which was scary considering how many people were in the studio. Neil, all alone now in the backstage area was unsure if he had to wait the three minutes of Andrew’s supposed interview or if he should go up immediately. The man who usually signaled him had apparently the same problem as he talked urgently to someone over his earpiece.

As it turned out, the solution was Kathy making half hearted attempts at joking about what had just happened and then Neil was sent in. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over his arm, like Roland has suggested.

And Roland had not exaggerated either, as soon as Neil walked across the stage in the bright spotlight he started to sweat. He thought he smelled something burning, and then the crowd screamed. Neil noticed something was rising up around him. Smoke. From fire. Not the flickery stuff he had worn last year in the chariot, but something much more real that devoured the red tie and the black silk of the shirt. Neil started to panic as the smoke thickened, but his flesh didn’t seem to be burning and he knew Roland must be behind whatever was happening. So he kept on walking, and when he reached Kathy the fire was gone.

Poor Kathy was positively overwhelmed for a second. She stared at Neil, and finally Neil saw himself in one of the big screens to the left of the stage. The silk was gone, in its place was a rough fabric, dusty black like coal. And on his left side, right over his heart was a smoldering fox paw. It was shifting and changing like real embers in a fireplace would.

“A fox paw,” Kathy said astonished. A shadow of recognition flickered across her face, and Neil could tell she knew that the fox paw wasn’t just Neil’s token. That it had come to symbolize so much more. That what would be seen as a flashy costume change in the Capitol was resonating in an entirely different way throughout the districts. But she made the best out of it.

“Well, hats off to your stylist. I don’t think anyone can argue that that’s not absolutely spectacular. Roland, I think you better take a bow!”

Kathy gestured for Roland to rise. He did, and made a small, gracious bow. And suddenly Neil was afraid for him. What had he done? Something terribly dangerous. An act of rebellion in itself. And he had done it for Neil. Neil remembered his words…

_“Good thing I always channel my emotions into my work. That way I don’t hurt anyone but myself.”_

… and Neil was afraid he had hurt himself beyond repair. The significance of this transformation would not be lost to Ichirou or Kengo. Let alone Riko who certainly knew he had been made fun of.

The audience, who had been stunned into silence, broke into wild applause, and Kathy finally gestured for Neil to sit down. She was back to her polished self.

“What an entrance! Not the first surprise you deliver this year, Neil. Everyone was wondering, what happened to your hair? And I’m sure we all saw the red tie that indicates your affiliation to Riko Moriyama’s victors group. Are the Games this year actually a fight for the number 3? Without Andrew?”

And just like that Neil was hit with the full force of his anger again. The last hour had helped him cool down a little, and Roland’s surprise had distracted him additionally. But now Neil remembered why he was here. What he had to do.

“It is true, Kathy,” he said solemnly. “Riko is very much invested in my appearance this year. I just met him and Kevin before the show actually. It’s really interesting to see where someone can find a family if their own doesn’t want them.” He smiled at Kathy. “I was very much surprised, too, how much not only Riko, but the president and his son, are overestimating me. The truth is, Kathy,” he leaned a little closer as if to tell her a secret, “they seem to be a little afraid of me.” Kathy just then looked a little paler, but tried to laugh it off. Neil nodded along with her. “I know, I couldn’t believe it either. But look who is back in the arena now. And I know I won’t survive the first day, as they see me as a threat for whatever reason, and surely will try to get rid of me and Andrew first thing.”

Now he smiled for real, cold and hard. If Jackson or whoever might be watching this didn’t recognize him now, they never would. He turned to look at Riko, then to where Kengo and Ichirou were watching. “I must be wrong, though, right? A single person like me could never endanger our powerful Capitol in all its glory.” His eyes darted to the audience and he gave them a meaningful look. “I guess you will know when Andrew and I don’t survive tomorrow.”

The buzzer sounded. Neil got up without another word and went to the exit where Wymack, Renee and Andrew were waiting for him. They didn’t wait for the final gathering of all the victors on stage that would certainly not happen after Neil’s performance. A few peacekeepers ushered them out and into a car, Wymack looked like he wanted drink himself in a stupor.

Somewhere, very far off, was a place called District 12 where Abby, Nicky, Aaron, and everyone else would have to deal with the fallout from this night. Just a brief hovercraft ride away was an arena where, tomorrow, Andrew and Neil and the other tributes would face their own form of punishment. Neil couldn’t muster up any feelings of regret, though. No matter the Moriyama’s reaction, they would cut their own flesh in the process.

 

Back in the Training Center they waited in silence for Allison and Roland to return. When the elevator opened, Allison had her high heels dangling from a finger and looked like she had just sprinted all the way up.

“It’s madness out there. Everyone’s been sent home and they’ve cancelled the recap of the interviews on television.”

Neil walked over to the window and tried to make sense of the commotion far below them on the streets.

“What are they saying?” Renee asked from where she stood by Neil’s side. “Are they asking the president to stop the Games?”

“I don’t think they know themselves what to ask. The whole situation is unprecedented. Even the idea of opposing the Capitol’s agenda is a source of confusion for the people here,” Roland said.

They fell into a long silence. It was obvious that the Games wouldn’t be cancelled. And so it was time to say goodbye. Roland and Renee would accompany them again right into the Launch Room, but Wymack and Allison Neil would see for the last time. They would head to the Games Headquarters to hopefully find a way for Andrew to survive.

“I guess this is where we say our goodbyes,” Wymack said.

Allison grabbed Neil by his shoulders and pressed him against her chest in a fierce hug. Neil felt her hair tickle his face and after a moment he hesitantly returned the hug. She let him go soon after and pointed a warning finger at Andrew. “Better take care he doesn’t get a single scratch on his pretty face!” Andrew gave her a flat look in return.

“Any last words of advice, Coach?” Neil asked.

“Stay alive,” Wymack said gruffly. He ruffled through Neil’s hair, then nodded towards their rooms. “Go to bed. You need your rest.”

Andrew and Neil crossed the room, but in the doorway, Wymack voice stopped them. “Neil, when you’re in the arena,” he began. Then he paused. He scowled in a way that made Neil sure he had somehow disappointed him.

“What?” he asked, a little defensively.

“You just remember who the enemy is,” Wymack told him. “That’s all. Now go on. Get out of here.”

They walked down the hallway. As usual, Andrew saw him to the door and continued to his own room. But this time, Neil couldn’t let him. For some reason he was certain that if a door shut between them, it would lock and he would only see him in the arena again.

“Do you want to come in?” Neil asked instead.

Andrew stopped. He turned around to look at Neil, silently and observing. Neil swallowed. “I want to tell you something.”

 

They took turns in the bathroom, Andrew helped himself with clothes from Neil’s wardrobe and when he saw Neil sitting on the big bed he said firmly, “No touching.”

“Okay,” Neil responded and then they lay face to face with a meter or so between them. For a while they took each other in, Neil couldn’t stop memorizing every single freckle he could find in the dim light from the night sky ceiling. Maybe this would be the last time he could ever do this.

“I was named after my father. His name is Nathan,” he whispered eventually. Neil wanted to give Andrew even his last secret. He didn’t want to keep anything from him anymore, not if he would die for him.

“You don’t look like a Nathan,” Andrew said.

“Nathaniel.” The name didn’t make Neil as anxious as it normally would. Here with Andrew it was just another ugly scar for him so examine, to absorb, and to file away. He closed his eyes and tried to remember a time when he had been Nathaniel. It was mostly pain and fear he could come up with.

“I changed my names many times to survive. Leaving Nathaniel behind was the only way to do so. To stay alive,” he said. “For the first time I want to keep my name, though. I want to be Neil as long as possible.”

Andrew didn’t respond. He simply looked at Neil with dark eyes, and after what seemed to be an eternity, he reached for his armbands. One by one he removed them, and Neil could feel how the knives weighted down the mattress between them.

“You do what you do to stay alive,” Andrew said blankly.

The pale shade of scarred skin was a familiar sight to Neil. And Neil realized how far Andrew had to fall to reach this point of almost constant apathy he lived in now. This was how he had survived Drake. How he had survived when he had lost the chance of a home and someone who had actually wanted him. Neil could never imagine inflicting such damage to himself, his own scars had all occurred through someone else’s hand. But then again, he could never imagine being in Andrew’s position.

He raised his forefinger to touch the marred skin, wondering if it would feel like his own. But he stopped himself, remembering Andrew’s words. They stayed like this, unmoving and listening to the other’s breathing until Andrew said, “You can touch them.”

Neil did so, but only for the briefest moment. He felt Andrew’s tension and didn’t want to push it any further. He kept his touch feather-light and when he drew back he said, “My father’s the Butcher.”

Andrew huffed. “I know.”

Blinking, Neil opened and closed his mouth like a fish before asking, “ _How?_ ”

“Are you kidding? Your reaction to Plank was very telling. And there are not that many Capitol officials that have the influence your father apparently has.”

Neil was speechless. And also a little ashamed he had been figured out so easily.

“I know you think you look like him,” Andrew continued unbothered. “But you look nothing like him.”

Absentmindedly Neil tugged at his auburn curls. He knew for a fact that that was not true. He was his father’s spitting image. The same eyes, nose, mouth and hair. Lola had said as much. Her brother, too. Even his mother.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked him when Neil failed to react.

“Yes,” Neil said immediately. And Andrew reached out to press his thumb between Neil’s eyebrows. “You look like a complete idiot. Now shut up and sleep.”

“You are the one talking nonstop, here,” Neil muttered.

“Shut it.”

Did they sleep? Neil didn’t know. But he couldn’t remember any nightmares that stuck with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I can't write make-out scenes, much less Andrew getting Neil off. It's mostly the same stuff as in the book (again).  
> And boy oh boy the interview. It's not as shocking as a baby but I tried. Oh my god did I try. Alternative version of this chapter includes Neil saying "the stress is really bad for the baby" with Kathy and everyone super shocked "what baby????" and Neil is just "ME".


	17. Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweating* so the arena huh........ everything happens so much in this chapter :')  
> And just so people don't get confused, Jean grew up in District 4, but was sold when he turned 13 to District 1 (and therefore to Tetsuji and Riko). I didn't really explain this in past chapters because I'm a mess lol

Roland arrived with the dawn. He knocked at Neil’s door, and when Neil opened he merely raised a brow at Andrew in the room.

“Renee is looking for you,” he let Andrew know.

Of course, Andrew had to go. Tributes entered the arena alone. He slipped past Neil, but not without brushing his knuckles against Neil’s back. Neil couldn’t watch him leave, so he turned to Roland who nodded in the direction of the roof door. He would help Neil dress for the Games, so they headed together to the roof. Neil was about to mount the ladder to the hovercraft when he remembered. “I didn’t say goodbye to Renee.”

“I’ll tell her,” Roland said.

The electric current froze Neil in place on the ladder until the doctor injected the tracker into his left forearm. Now they would always be able to locate him in the arena. The hovercraft took off, and Neil looked out of the windows until they blacked out. Roland kept pressing him to eat and, when that failed, to drink. Neil managed to keep sipping water, thinking about what kind of arena might be waiting for him. A desert where water would be scarce or, like in Wymack’s Games, an area where everything had been poisonous. Dehydration was an awful death, and he would need his strength to keep Andrew alive.

When they reached the Launch Room at the arena, Neil showered. Roland combed his hair and helped him dress over simple undergarments and a thin black shirt. This year’s tribute outfit was a fitted black and gray jumpsuit, made of very sheer material, that zippered up the front. A fifteen-centimeter-wide padded belt covered in shiny black plastic. A pair of nylon shoes with rubber soles.

“What do you think?” Neil asked Roland.

Roland frowned as he rubbed the thin fabric of Neil’s sleeve between his fingers. “I don’t know. It will offer little in the way of protection from cold or water.”

“Sun?” Neil asked, picturing a burning sun over a barren desert.

“Possibly. Or tropics. If it’s been treated,” Roland said. “Oh, I almost forgot this.” He took Neil’s orange fox paw pin from his pocket and fixed it to the jumpsuit.

They sat down, as they had done last year, waiting until the voice told Neil to prepare for the launch. Roland walked him over to the circular metal plate and zipped up the neck of Neil’s jumpsuit securely.

“Remember, Neil,” he said, “you are not alone.” He held Neil’s face in his hands for a second and stepped back as the glass cylinder slid down around Neil.

“Thank you,” Neil said, although Roland probably couldn’t hear him. He lifted his chin and waited for the plate to rise. But it didn’t. And it still didn’t.

Neil looked at Roland, confused. Roland just gave his head a slight shake, as perplexed as Neil was. Why were they delaying this?

Suddenly the door behind Roland burst open and three Peacekeepers sprang into the room. Two pinned Roland’s arms behind him and cuffed him while the third hit him in the temple with such force he was knocked to his knees. But they kept hitting him with metal-studded gloves, opening gashes on his face and body. Neil started to shout, banging on the unyielding glass, trying to reach him. The Peacekeepers ignored him completely as they dragged Roland’s limp body from the room. All that was left were the smears of blood on the floor.

Sickened and terrified, Neil felt the plate begin to rise.

He was still leaning against the glass when the breeze caught his hair and he forced himself to straighten up. Just in time, too, because the glass was retreating and he was standing free in the arena.

Something seemed to be wrong with his vision. The ground was too bright and shiny and kept undulating. Neil squinted down at his feet and saw that his metal plate was surrounded by blue waves that lapped up over his boots. Slowly he raised his eyes and took in the water spreading out in every direction. And just like that he was back at a beach, somewhere between District 8 and District 11, surrounded by sand and water, his hands bloody and his mother’s burned remains in a backpack.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Thirty-fifth Hunger Games begin!” The announcer’s voice hammered in Neil’s ears. He had less than a minute to get his bearings. Then the gong would sound and the tributes would be free to move off their metal plates. But move where?

Neil couldn’t think straight. The image of Roland, beaten and bloody, consumed him. His mother’s desperate gasps rang in his ears and for a second he had no idea where he was and what role he was playing. What was his name? Alex? Where was Roland? What were they doing to him? Torturing him? Killing him? Turning him into an Avox? Stefan? No, no, he was Neil. He was Neil Josten from District 12, he was nineteen years old, and he was for the second time a tribute in the Hunger Games.

The realization didn’t help much. The assault on Roland had been obviously staged to unhinge Neil. And it  _ had _ unhinged Neil. Just as much as his surroundings, and Riko couldn’t possibly have planned that.

All he wanted to do was collapse on his metal plate. But he could hardly do that after what he had just witnessed. He had to be strong, his mother’s voice hissed in his ear. She wanted him to survive, to keep on going. But Neil ignored her. This was about Andrew now. So he gritted his teeth and willed himself to be a player.

_ Where are you? _ Neil still couldn’t make sense of his surroundings.  _ Where are you?! _ His mother’s voice grew insistent. Urged him to sharpen his instincts, to use what he had learned on the run. And slowly the world came into focus.

Blue water. Pink sky. White-hot sun beating down. And there was the Cornucopia, the shining gold metal horn, about forty meters away. At first, it appeared to be sitting on a circular island. But on closer examination, Neil saw the thin strips of land radiating from the circle like the spokes of a wheel. Maybe ten to twelve, and they seemed equidistant from one another. Between the spokes, all was water. Water and a pair of tributes.

Twelve spokes, each with two tributes balanced on metal plates between them. The other tribute in Neil’s watery wedge was an older man from District 8.

Beyond the water, wherever he looked, a narrow beach and then dense greenery. Neil forced any memory of blood and fire and sand down. He scanned the circle of tributes, looking for Andrew, but he must be blocked from Neil’s view by the Cornucopia.

Just to confirm what he already knew, he caught a handful of water as it washed in and smelled it and touched the tip of his wet finger to his tongue. It was salt water.

There were no boats, no ropes, not even a bit of driftwood to cling to. There was only one way to get to the Cornucopia. When the gong sounded, Neil didn’t even hesitate before he dived to his left.

It had been a while since his last swim, but his mother had been a harsh teacher, and she hadn’t spared him from swimming through cold lakes and wild rivers either. “Faster, Abram, faster! Further, further! Don’t be so slow!”

In no time Neil pulled himself, dripping, on to the land strip and sprinted down the sandy stretch for the Cornucopia. He couldn’t see anyone else converging from his side, although the gold horn blocked a good portion of his view. He had to think like a Career now, and the first thing he wanted was to get his hands on a weapon.

This year, the supplies were piled at the seven-meter-high mouth of the Cornucopia. Neil’s eyes instantly homed in on a golden bow just in arm’s reach and he yanked it free.

There was someone behind him. Neil pulled an arrow from the sheath that was still wedged in the pile and armed the bow as he turned.

Jean stood a few meters away, with a trident poised to attack. A net dangled from his other hand. The muscles in his upper body were rigid in anticipation.

“I’m not surprised you can swim, too,” he said. “Your mother was thorough in grooming you.”

Neil narrowed his eyes. “Maybe so. Must be great, though, that they built a whole arena especially for you.” Jean and the District 4 tributes had endless possibilities here to kill Neil and anyone else. Half of the tributes could probably not even swim. And there was no pool in the Training Center, no chance to learn. Either you had come here a swimmer or you’d better be a really fast learner. Even participation in the initial bloodbath depended on being able to cover twenty meters of water. That gave Jean and District 4 an enormous advantage.

For a moment Jean and Neil were frozen, sizing each other up, their weapons, their skill. Then Jean suddenly gave Neil an acknowledging nod. “Lucky thing we’re allies.”

He held his arm up and there, around his wrist, was the solid-black bangle patterned with orange flames. The same Neil remembered on Wymack’s wrist the morning training had begun.

Neil briefly considered that Jean could have stolen it to trick him, but somehow he knew this wasn’t the case. Wymack had given it to him. As a signal to Neil. More like an order, really. To trust Jean. Jean!

Neil could hear other footsteps approaching. He had to decide at once. “Fuck! Okay!” he snapped, because even though Wymack was his mentor and trying to keep him alive, it angered Neil. Why hadn’t he told Neil he had made this arrangement before? Probably because he knew how he and Andrew would have reacted.

“Duck!” Jean commanded loudly, so different from his usual reserved voice, that Neil did so. His trident went whizzing over Neil’s head and there was a sickening sound of impact as it found its target. A woman from District 4 sank to her knees as Jean freed the trident from her chest. “Don’t trust 1, 2 and 4,” he said.

“You are 1,” Neil replied with an eye-roll.

But there was no time to question anything more. Neil worked the sheath of arrows free. “Each take one side?” Neil said. Jean nodded, and Neil darted around the pile. About four spokes apart, Epona and Titus were just reaching land. Either they were slow swimmers or they had thought the water might be laced with other dangers, which it might as well be. Sometimes it was good Neil didn’t think too much about any consequences. But now that they were on the sand, they would be here in a matter of seconds.

“Anything useful?” Neil heard Jean shout.

He quickly scanned the pile on his side and found maces, swords, bows and arrows, tridents, knives, spears, axes, other things Neil had no name for… and nothing else.

“Weapons!” he called back. “Nothing but weapons!”

“Same here,” Jean confirmed. “Grab what you want and let’s go!”

Neil shot an arrow at Epona, who was too close for comfort, but she was expecting it and dived back into the water before it could find its mark. Titus wasn’t quite as swift, and Neil sunk an arrow into his calf as he plunged into the waves.

Neil slung an extra bow and a second sheath of arrows over his body, found a few knives he shoved to the arrows, and then he saw Matt running towards him, grinning and waving. Behind him, Andrew looked somewhat pissed off, they were both dripping wet. Jean found his way to him and pointed to the stretch of land next to the one Matt and Andrew were currently running on.

“Do something about that, would you?” he said. Neil saw Epona’s brother, Nero, barreling towards them. His belt was undone and he had it stretched between his hands as a kind of shield. Neil shot at him and he managed to block the arrow with his belt before it could skewer his liver. Where it punctured the belt, a black liquid spewed forth, coating his face. As Neil reloaded, Nero flattened on the ground, rolled a meter to the water, and submerged.

The other woman from District 4, Epona and Titus were already on their way to the Cornucopia again and a quick survey of the rest of the arena showed that most tributes were still trapped on their plates. Neil grabbed for a sword and then he and Jean were off to meet Andrew and Matt halfway.

“You can swim?” Neil asked them both surprised.

Matt laughed and shook his head. “Without him I would still be standing on that damn plate,” he pointed at Andrew. “He figured out that the belts are floating devices. I mean, we still had to propel ourselves, but at least we weren’t drowning.”

“We should move on,” Jean urged, looking back to where Epona, Titus, Nero and the District 4 woman had gathered, their pack already formed, and were picking their weapons.

Neil shoved the sword in Matt’s hands and handed Andrew a bow, the sheath of arrows with the knives in them and then turned to look out for Dan, her mentor, and District 3. Jean was already running ahead and Matt turned to follow him. “Dan—” Neil started, but Matt waved him off with a grin.

“Don’t worry about her,” he said. “Let’s get out of here first.”

Andrew grabbed for Neil’s wrist impatiently and they ran away from the Cornucopia.

Where the sand ended, woods began to rise sharply. Well, not really woods, more something like a  _ jungle _ . Neil had never seen one for himself, only knew about the word from books. Most of the trees were unfamiliar, with smooth trunks and few branches. The earth was very black and spongy underfoot, often obscured by tangles of vines with colorful blossoms.

While the sun was hot and bright, the air was warm and heavy with moisture, and Neil got the feeling he would never really be dry here. The thin, black-gray fabric of the jumpsuit let the seawater evaporate easily, but it had already begun to cling to Neil with sweat.

Neil took the lead with Andrew by his side. Andrew still carried the second bow and sheath but had taken most of the knives out to hide them in his armbands. A long knife he gave Neil to cut through patches of dense vegetation.

Matt and Jean both shared the back. Neil still didn’t trust Jean, but with Matt he felt secure enough. It had to cost Andrew a lot more, though, to let someone walk behind him.

“You helped Matt?” Neil asked him quietly after a while. It was no surprise Andrew would figure out a way to get on land without being able to swim. But showing Matt how to do so…

“You wanted him,” Andrew replied. “And he could be useful.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Jean was looking around nervously. “He is a surprise, though. And Coach knows I don’t like surprises.”

Neil only nodded. Jean was dangerous. Either he had planned with Riko to infiltrate their group for whatever reason, even though Neil doubted Wymack or Renee could be fooled so easily, or Jean had actually joined them which would make Riko angry beyond reason.

They climbed rapidly for about two kilometers before Neil requested a rest. The foliage had hidden the wheel from sight, so Neil wanted to scale a tree to get a better view.

Around the Cornucopia, the ground appeared to be bleeding; the water had purple stains. Bodies lay on the ground and floated in the sea, but at this distance, with everyone dressed exactly the same, Neil couldn’t tell who was alive or dead. All he could tell was that some of the tiny black-gray figures still battled. He wasn’t really surprised that their friendships had only lasted until here and not any further. If they had joked a few days ago like best friends, they were now ripping each other to shreds. Not even the slightest bit of restraint.

Neil realized there was only one person he could trust and they were neither from District 1 nor 6.

Neil let the slight, soupy breeze cool his cheeks while he came to a decision. Despite the bangle, he should just get it over with and shoot Jean. Matt would probably realize they had no future if that was how Neil treated his allies and would run off to find Dan, where he belonged. Neil really didn’t want to kill him. But better to kill Jean now before they got too close, or he owed him even more. This was the time.

He took one last look at the battling figures, the bloody ground, to harden his resolve, and then slid to the ground.

But when Neil landed, he found Jean had kept pace with his thoughts. As if he knew what Neil had seen and how it would affect him. He had his trident raised in a casual defensive position. Andrew found his way to Neil’s side, while Matt’s eyes darted unsure to and fro between them.

“What’s going on down there, Neil? Have they all started braiding friendship bracelets? Tossed the weapons in the sea in defiance of the Capitol?” Jean asked.

“No,” Neil said.

“No,” Jean repeated. “Because whatever happened in the past is in the past. And no one in this arena was a victor by chance.”

Neil held Jean’s gaze, weighing his speed against his own. The time it would take to send an arrow through his brain versus the time his trident would reach Neil’s body. Jean would die one way or another with Andrew there, but there was also the chance of the trident impaling Andrew. Neil could see Jean waiting for him to make the first move. Calculating who he should attack first.

The tension was stretched to the breaking point when Matt stepped deliberately between them.

“So how many are dead?” he asked.

He obviously caught onto the glares he received, but he remained planted firmly between them.

“Hard to say,” Neil answered. “At least six, I think. And they’re still fighting.”

“Let’s keep moving, then. We need water,” Matt said.

So far there had been no sign of a freshwater stream or pond, and the salt water was undrinkable.

“Better find some soon,” said Jean. “We need to be undercover when the others come hunting us tonight.”

We. Us. Hunting. Alright, maybe killing Jean would be a little premature. He had been helpful so far. He did have Wymack’s stamp of approval, and certainly Renee’s as well. Should it come to the worse, Neil could still kill him in his sleep. And so he let the moment pass. And Jean did, too.

The absence of water intensified Neil’s thirst. He kept a sharp eye out as they continued their trek upwards, but with no luck. After about a kilometer, he could see an end to the tree line and assumed they were reaching the crest of the hill. While he kept on walking he turned around to Andrew, Matt and Jean and said, “Maybe we’ll have better luck on the other side. Find a spring or something.”

Neil swung out with the knife blindly as his eyes locked with Andrew. Then Andrew’s eyes shifted to the side, and the last thing Neil heard was Andrew saying his name before everything went black.

 

His mother was calling him. Close to his ear she whispered “Abram” urgently. Neil opened his eyes and there she was. Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. She wore a nightgown. “What are you doing here?” she asked. She asked, not demanded as usual. She looked younger, too. No gray hairs and her face free of any signs of stress. In the last few years her face had become haggard, but she looked refreshed now. Like she was about to pick Neil— Abram up to carry him to the bathroom. He would play in the bathtub and she would sit next to him, watching and sometimes asking what this toy did and what the other.

“What are you doing here?” she asked again. Neil blinked. He opened his mouth to answer her but nothing came out. And then she was gone. Pain flared up from his chest down through his whole body. When he opened his eyes, Andrew stared right back to him.

“Careful,” Neil coughed. “There’s a force field up ahead.”

For a second Andrew looked like he wanted to hit him. Neil wasn’t worried, though, he knew Andrew would never hurt him. He tried to sit up, but Andrew pushed him back down and that was when he saw Andrew’s split lip. Neil lifted a hand to touch, but couldn’t reach it. “What happened?”

“Are you stupid? You were hit by a fucking force field,” Andrew said, pushing Neil’s wrist back down.

“I’m fine,” Neil said.

“You were dead! Your fucking heart stopped!” Andrew suddenly burst out, and the grip around Neil’s wrist tightened to the point of being painful. Neil barely registered it, too shocked at the bottomless rage in Andrew’s eyes. “He,” Andrew pointed at Jean with an aggressive gesture who sat close by, looking slightly uncomfortable, “had to bring your stupid ass back!”

Jean sported an impressive black eye and when Neil looked down on himself, he saw the top of his jumpsuit unzipped. “Huh?” he said dizzily. “Yeah, well. What else is new? It was hardly the first time.”

It was probably the wrong thing to say. Andrew was shaking with restrained anger, gripping the front of Neil’s undershirt, but then stopped. He went completely still as if someone had simply shut him off. For a moment they sat there like that, Neil blinking against the pain and exhaustion and Andrew fighting whatever inner battle he was having.

“How are you?” Matt asked from somewhere above Neil’s head. “Can you move?” There was some shuffling that stopped abruptly when Andrew fixated Matt with a glare.

“Don’t come closer,” he said, his tone murderous.

Matt stopped. “Alright, I really don’t want to catch a black eye as well, but we should probably move on.”

“No,” Andrew said.

“So you want to make camp here, then?” Jean asked. He flinched ever so slightly at Andrew’s look.

“I don’t think that’s an option,” Neil cut in. “Staying here. With no water or protection. I feel fine, really. If we could just go slowly.”

“Slowly would be better than not at all,” Jean said.

Andrew helped Neil to his feet, and for a moment he let his hand rest where Neil’s heart had found its rhythm again. “It’s working now,” Neil whispered and tried a smile.

“You are at ninety-nine, so shut the fuck up.”

 

Matt quickly fashioned a branch into a cane for Neil, who protested but was secretly relieved about it. He had actually died once before, he couldn’t even remember it, something about a head injury when he had been six, but only because it wasn’t something new to him didn’t mean it wasn’t painful or exhausting. He really wanted to lie down for a few days, next to Andrew maybe and sleep.

After cutting down a bunch of hard nuts that hung like grapes from a nearby tree, Andrew took the lead with Neil right beside him. They shoulders were brushing against each other while Andrew was tossing the nuts ahead of him as they walked. Neil could actually spot the patches that indicated a force field from time to time now, just like Janie had shown him.

Whenever a nut hit the field, there was a puff of smoke before the nut landed, blackened with a cracked shell, on the ground at Neil’s feet. After a few minutes Andrew stopped and picked one of the roasted nuts up. “You hungry?” he asked Neil.

Neil nodded, he was thirsty more than anything, but hunger added another layer of weariness to his worn out body and mind. Andrew peeled the shell off the nut and handed it over to Neil. “You can eat them, I saw them at the edible plants station.”

So Neil picked more of the nuts up as they went along and handed some over to Jean and Matt. When Andrew and Jean went ahead to get some more nuts from a tree, Neil stayed behind with Matt to rest for a moment.

“So, uh, Andrew hit Jean?” he asked conversationally.

“You could say that,” Matt said, lowering his voice. “I really thought he would rip him into pieces for a second. Like when you wouldn’t move and Jean suddenly pinched your nose shut and uh… pressed his lips on yours, Andrew punched him right here,” Matt pointed to the spot close to his own eyebrow. “You were really out of it, Neil. Like I really thought you were a goner. And I think so did Andrew.” He gave Neil a meaningful look.

Neil didn’t know what to say to that so he pushed himself up and hurried after Jean and Andrew to catch up with them.

They continued their way and Neil started to wonder about Jean. Why hadn’t he just let him die? He would have been blameless. Andrew never would have guessed that it had been in Jean’s power to revive Neil. Why could he possibly have wanted to save him? And why had Jean been so determined to team up with him? Willing to kill him, too, if it came to that. But leaving the choice of if they fought to Neil.

But as so often, Neil’s eyes found Andrew after a while and he simply forgot about Jean. There was no trace of the anger from before left on his face. Andrew looked as detached as ever as he threw nuts in front of him to evade the force field. After a moment he noticed Neil watching him and gave him a bored look in return. He reached up to push Neil’s face away, then threw a nut right at his head.

“Staring,” he said.

“So what?” Neil asked.

As an answer another nut hit his head.

After another hour or so of walking and tossing nuts while trying to get away from the Cornucopia, Neil had to realize it was futile.

They were not making any progress trying to go left. In fact, the force field seemed to be herding them along a curved path. Also he had to lean on the branch more and more while sweat was dripping down his hair and face like raindrops. Andrew apparently thought the same.

“We make a break,” he announced. They sat down, not hungry anymore but the thirst was much worse. They were losing water constantly and had no way of getting anything into them. Neil rested his head against a tree trunk and looked up. “I could get a look from above,” he suggested.

“No,” Andrew said.

“I don’t think you should even move much in your condition,” Matt agreed.

“Yeah, well, no one besides me is actually capable of doing so,” Neil shot back hotly. The fatigue and heat made him short-tempered. “You are all too heavy.” He stood up to show them that he was fine. After the few minutes of sitting he actually felt a little better, but running was still no option. Didn’t mean he couldn’t climb a damn tree.

Andrew was right up next to him and put his hand in Neil’s neck to pull him closer. He looked Neil in each eye attentively before pushing him away. “If you fall down I won’t catch you.”

“Good thing I won’t fall.”

“I would catch you,” Matt chimed in. Neil blinked at him perplexed. “I won’t fall.”

“Just go,” Jean said exasperated and both Matt and Andrew gave him a look that silenced him.

The tree Neil chose seemed to jut higher into the air than the others. When Neil made his way up the twisting boughs, he realized this might have been a mistake. He was still shaky, and started to pant after three meters or so. When he looked down he saw Andrew watching him with his arms crossed, and for a second Neil remembered the hand over his heart, trying to find its beat. Andrew would catch him. No matter what he liked to say.

Neil stayed as close to the trunk as possible. There was no telling how easily these rubbery branches would snap. Still he climbed beyond good sense because there was something he had to see. As he clung to a stretch of trunk no wider than a sapling, swaying back and forth in the humid breeze, his suspicions were confirmed.

There was a reason they couldn’t turn to the left, would never be able to. From this precarious vantage point, Neil could see the shape of the whole arena for the first time. A perfect circle. With a perfect wheel in the middle. The sky above the circumference of the jungle was tinged a uniform pink.

And Neil thought he could make out one or two of those wavy squares, chinks in the armor, Janie and Sola had called them, because they revealed what was meant to be hidden and were therefore a weakness.

Just to make absolutely sure, Neil shot an arrow into the empty space above the tree line. There was a spurt of light, a flash of real blue sky, and the arrow was thrown back into the jungle. Neil climbed down, and almost fell to the ground the last few meters, positively exhausted.

“The force field has us trapped in a circle,” he panted. “A dome, really. I don’t know how high it goes. There’s the Cornucopia, the sea, and then the jungle all around. Very symmetrical and not very large.”

“Did you see any water?” Jean asked.

“Only the salt water where we started the Games.”

“There must be some other source,” said Matt, frowning.

“The foliage is thick. Maybe there are ponds or springs somewhere,” Neil said doubtfully. He instinctively felt the Capitol might want these unpopular Games over as soon as possible. Riko wanted to knock them off rather sooner than later probably.

It was already mid-afternoon, so they decided to set camp. Jean chose a campsite about ten meters below the force field, saying they could use it as a weapon by deflecting enemies into it if attacked. Then he pulled blades of sharp grass that grew in two-meter-high tufts and started to weave them together into mats. Neil tried to follow suit but he was obviously just as bad at it as with the fishhooks. While Matt stood guard, Andrew told Neil he would look around for water or at least something better to eat than the nuts. Neil didn’t want him to go, but his suggestion to go with him was met with a threat of being tied to the next tree.

The sound of the cannon brought them all to a halt. The initial bloodbath at the Cornucopia must be over. The death toll of the tributes was now available. Neil counted eight shots, not as many as last year.

When Andrew returned, Jean had woven four mats and even some bowls they could fill with the roasted nuts. Everyone turned to Andrew hopefully, but he only shook his head.

“No water, but he knew where it was,” he said, hoisting something up that looked like a cross between a rat and a possum. It was ugly, a big rodent with a fuzz of mottled gray fur and two wicked looking gnawing teeth protruding over its lower lip. But its muzzle was wet.

“Can we eat him?” Matt asked.

Andrew shrugged. “Let our hunting wonder decide,” he said throwing the dead animal in Neil’s arms. Reflexively he caught it and inspected it. He took one of Andrew’s knives and started gutting and skinning it.

“Doesn’t look much different from a squirrel,” Neil said. “He ought to be cooked…” He hesitated as he thought of trying to start a fire out here from complete scratch. Even if he succeeded, there was the smoke to think about. There was no chance of hiding it.

Andrew had another idea. He took a cube of rodent meat, skewered it on the tip of a pointed stick, and let it fall into the force field. There was a sharp sizzle and the stick flew back. The chunk of meat was blackened on the outside but well cooked inside. Neil, Matt and even Jean gave him a round of applause that quickly stopped, once they remembered where they were.

The white sun sunk in the rosy sky as they gathered the mats in a circle and shared the meat and nuts. Andrew took up his position against a tree trunk and Neil pushed his mat next to him. For a while Matt and Neil chattered, Matt asking many questions about the rodent, which they decided to call a tree rat. How Neil had skinned it, how he could differentiate squirrel meat from deer meat, and so on.

He also talked about himself a little bit. He only mentioned his father once, a doctor or so, but had many stories about his mother. She was responsible for the transportation setup in all the districts and even the Capitol, which meant she traveled a lot. She was one of the few district residents, besides the mayor, who was allowed to see other districts. After a pause, he added that her last business trip had been to District 8. Neil could easily fill the blanks Matt left out. He hadn’t heard about her ever since.

Their conversation trailed off when the sun slipped below the horizon and a pale white moon rose. They knew what was coming next.

The sky brightened when the seal of the Capitol appeared as if floating in space.

The woman from District 4, the one Jean had taken out with his trident, was the first to appear. That meant that all tributes in 1 to 4, with the exception of the woman, were alive – Jean of course, Titus, the District 2 siblings, Janie, Sola and the other District 4 woman.

District 4 was followed by both tributes of District 5, both of District 8 – which meant Dan and Niobe were still alive. District 9 hadn’t made it as well. Seth’s district partner from 10 was the last. The Capitol seal was back with a final bit of music and the sky went dark except for the moon.

No one spoke. Neil couldn’t pretend to really care, and the same was the case for Andrew and Jean. Matt was the only one who had a deeper relationship with the other victors, but Neil couldn’t say how much he was actually affected.

Neil stretched his stiff legs out and felt Andrew shift next to him. To loosen his aching neck Neil turned his head from side to side and looked up and down. That was when he saw the arrival of the silver parachute. It landed right in the middle of their circle. No one reached for it.

“Whose is it, do you think?” Matt asked finally.

“No telling,” said Jean.

Neil crawled to the middle and untied the cord. On the parachute sat a small metal object that he couldn’t place. A note was attached.

_ Drink up – W _

“What is it?” Matt came closer to take a look.

“It’s from Wymack,” Neil said. He sat back and felt Andrew looking over his shoulder. After a moment he took the object from Neil’s hand and held it against the moonlight. “It’s a spile,” he said.

Matt blinked. “A what?”

But Neil understood. He was on his feet at once. Their thirst. The lack of springs. The tree rat’s sharp front teeth and wet muzzle. There could only be one thing worth having inside these trees.

As if Andrew had read Neil’s thoughts he drew a knife and went over to a nearby tree. With some effort he drilled a hole in the bark that could hold the spile. Neil wedged it in carefully and they all stood back in anticipation.

At first nothing happened. Then a drop of water rolled down the lip and landed in Neil’s palm. He licked it off and held out his hand for more.

As a thin stream started to run out, they took turns holding their mouths under the tap, wetting their parched tongues. Matt brought over a basket, and the grass was so tightly woven it held water. Neil filled the basket and passed it around. They took deep gulps and later, luxuriously, splashed their faces clean. Like everything here, the water was on the warm side, but this was no time to be picky.

Afterwards they prepared for the night. Andrew wanted to take the first watch and Jean and Matt let him. Neil waited for the two to lie down on their mats, with their backs to the force field, then he shuffled closer to Andrew and whispered, “Wake me if you get tired.”

He was sure Andrew wouldn’t sleep at all with Matt or Jean guarding them, but maybe he trusted Neil enough. Andrew didn’t say anything, he simply shoved Neil’s face away and pointed for him to lie down. Neil did so, head resting on his folded arm, facing Andrew’s thigh. He felt tired, or more like a bone-deep exhaustion, but his mind wouldn’t shut up. He turned on his back and stared at the fake night sky, forcing his eyes to feel heavy.

It didn’t work, but after a few moments he felt the ghost of fingers touching his hair. Neil looked up to where Andrew was sitting next to him and said lowly, “Yes.” When he closed his eyes again, Andrew combed through Neil’s hair for real. Slowly and repeatedly. It gave Neil a rhythm to fall asleep to, and he might have only imagined it, but there was the press of a hand against his left side, right where his heart was.

Andrew did indeed not wake him, instead Neil was jarred from sleep a few hours later by what seemed to be the tolling of a bell. It wasn’t exactly like the one they rang in the Justice Buildings on New Year’s Eve but close enough for Neil to recognize it. Everyone sat up alarmed, looking around attentively. The tolling stopped.

“Twelve,” Andrew said.

What did that signify? One ring for each district? Maybe. But why?

They waited for further instructions, maybe an announcement, an invitation to a feast. The only thing of note appeared in the distance. A dazzling bolt of electricity struck a towering tree and then a lightning storm began.

Matt and Jean returned to sleep and Neil said to Andrew, “Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

Andrew hesitated, but no one could stay awake forever. He settled down while Neil sat up. Neil wanted to touch him, to kiss him. He remembered their last kiss vividly, and also Andrew’s hands roaming over his shoulders down to his waist. He bit his lip. That had been their last time. They wouldn’t kiss here, for everyone to see. The Capitol had taken enough from them, so they could at least keep that as something private, something that only belonged to them.

Neil sat with his bow loaded, watching the jungle, which was ghostly pale and green in the moonlight. After an hour or so, the lightning stopped. He could hear the rain coming in, though, pattering on the leaves a few hundred meters away. He kept waiting for it to reach them but it never did.

The sound of the cannon startled Neil, although it made little impression on his sleeping companions. Even Andrew kept on sleeping, which was telling enough of how tired he must have been.

The elusive rain shut off suddenly, like the storm had done last year in the arena.

Moments after it stopped, Neil saw fog sliding softly in from the direction of the recent downpour. Just a reaction, Neil thought. Cool rain on the steaming ground. It continued to approach at a steady pace. Tendrils reached forward and then curled like fingers, as if they were pulling the rest behind them.

As Neil watched, he felt the hairs on his neck to rise. Something was wrong with the fog. The progression of the front line was too uniform to be natural.

A sickeningly sweet odor started to invade Neil’s nostrils and Neil leaped to his feet, shouting for the others to wake up. In the few seconds it took to rouse them, Neil began to blister.

Tiny, searing stabs. Wherever the droplets of mist touched his skin.

“Run!” he shouted at the others. “Run!”

Andrew snapped awake instantly, followed shortly by Jean, rising to counter an enemy. But when he saw the wall of fog, he pulled a sleepy Matt to his feet and a moment later they both took off. Their long feet carried them effortlessly and swiftly. Andrew grabbed Neil’s arm when Neil failed to react as fast. The consequences of the encounter with the force field had slowed him down immensely.

Andrew didn’t let go of him, though, and forced him to follow Matt and Jean.

“What is it?” Andrew asked, assessing the situation.

“Some kind of fog. Poisonous gas,” Neil replied, his hand slipping in Andrew’s. He knew he was only slowing Andrew down. But Andrew wouldn’t let go, rather tightened the grip on Neil’s hand.

Neil looked back at the wall of fog extending in a straight line as far as he could see in either direction. Neil grit his teeth and forced his body to move faster, and it helped a little, but they were never fast enough to afford rest, and the mist continued to lap at their heels. Droplets sprang free of the body of vapor. They burned, but not like fire. Less a sense of heat and more of intense pain as the chemicals found their flesh, clung to it, and burrowed down through the layers of skin.

Matt, who had bounded off initially, stopped when he realized they were having problems. But this was nothing he could fight, only evade. He shouted encouragement, trying to move them along, and the sound of his voice acted as a guide, though little more. As Matt realized that, too, Neil became aware of something scarier than the blisters, more debilitating than the burns. He felt a spasm run up his leg and that was when it gave in.

Whatever chemical laced the fog did more than burn – it targeted their nerves. Andrew yanked Neil forward, and was again slowed down by Neil. Before Neil could tell him to let him go and just run, Matt had returned to them. And Jean had made his way back as well. There was no time for talking, Matt simply threw Neil over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing and called out to Jean to turn around and lead the way.

Jean was moving at a diagonal down the hill, he was trying to keep a distance from the gas while steering them towards the water that surrounded the Cornucopia. After a moment Matt said to Neil, “Can you still use your arms?”

“Yes,” Neil said, and a moment later Matt shoved the sword in his hands as his own arms started to jerk uncontrollably at his sides. Neil looked up and saw Andrew running beside them, holding his left arm where it twitched uselessly. Neil wanted to reach out to him, but all his energy went into the hand that held Matt’s sword. For a dizzying moment Neil was glad he was wearing his weapons and the spile on his back.

Time and space lost meaning as the fog seemed to invade Neil’s brain, muddling his thoughts, making everything unreal. Maybe they were already dead. At least parts of them were clearly dying. So this was Riko’s grand finale. Somewhere Neil found a spark of anger about it. What a pathetic display of power.

Moonlight was glistening on Andrew’s white hair, beads of searing pain were peppering Neil, Matt panting and then, without warning he just collapsed on the ground. Face down he fell and Neil with him. Andrew stumbled over them and fell to his knees, unable to move. Beneath him, Neil heard Matt groan.

Suddenly a pair of strong hands pulled Neil from Matt and he could see the wall of fog. It seemed to be transforming. Yes, it was becoming thicker, as if it was pressed up against a glass window and was being forced to condense. Neil squinted, and in fact, the fog had stopped moving forwards entirely. It began to rise upwards now, as if being slowly vacuumed into the sky.

The hands pulled Neil to his feet. It was Jean. He gave Neil a quick once over, then pushed him urgently down the slope. Neil stumbled, fell to his knees. “Crawl!” Jean ordered, pointing to the beach that could be seen where the green thinned out. “To the water!”

And Neil crawled. Somewhere behind him was Andrew, and Jean pulled a barely conscious Matt with him.

Neil’s blistered hands reached the warm water that surrounded the Cornucopia first and he jerked back as if he had touched an open flame. Suddenly he understood the saying, rubbing salt in a wound.

The salt in the water made the pain of his wounds so blinding, Neil nearly blacked out. But there was another sensation, of drawing out. He experimented by gingerly placing his hand back in the water. Torturous, yes, but then less so. And through the blue layer of water, Neil saw a milky substance leaching out of the wounds on his skin. As the whiteness diminished, so did the pain.

And little by little, one wound at a time, he soaked the poison out of his body. Next to him Andrew seemed to be doing the same. Matt could hardly move, but Jean who had evaded the worst, scooped up handfuls of water and emptied them on Matt’s fists. Dragging his whole body in the water would probably kill him, as the pain would be unbearable.

When Neil was recovered enough he made his way over to Andrew whose arm was still shaking but he could move it at will again. For a moment they sat as close as possible without touching. Andrew settled for lightly ghosting over Neil’s cheek and chin with his fingertips to see if he was alright, then pointed to where Jean was still working on Matt.

“We’ve got to get more of him into water,” Jean said when Neil joined him. They couldn’t put him in face-first, not while he was in this condition. Neil nodded to Matt’s feet. They each took one, pulled him one hundred and eighty degrees around and started to drag him into the salt water.

He slowly detoxified and the longer Neil sat in the water with him, the better he felt. Not just his skin, but his brain and muscle control continued to improve.

While Matt slowly began to revive, Neil turned back to Andrew. “Yes or no?” he asked, voice still a little hoarse from the chemicals, even after thoroughly rinsing his mouth and throat.

Andrew examined him for a moment, but then said, “Yes.” Neil reached out to touch the split lip from the fight with Jean with his thumb. He wanted to kiss him so bad, but restrained himself and settled for rubbing salt water over Andrew’s nose and cheeks.

Behind him, Jean cleared his throat. “I uh—I’m going to try to tap a tree,” he said. “You have a knife?” Without taking his eyes from Andrew, Neil pointed to the beach where the sheath with his arrows laid and in it another knife.

“Does this yes go all the way?” Neil asked after Jean had headed off.

“Yes,” Andrew said.

And Neil smiled for the briefest of moments before he let go. Not in the arena. Never again. But he wasn’t the only one who wanted.

 

Jean had found a good tree about ten meters from the strip of beach. They could hardly see him, but the sound of his knife against the wooden trunk was crystal clear.

Neil moved out a bit further into the shallows, floating alternately on his belly and back while splashing water at Andrew and Matt. The water had given Matt full control over his body again and he excitedly took a few swings with his sword and shook his legs out. Afterwards he made fun of Neil and his flyweight, and to Matt’s surprise and Neil’s annoyance, Andrew agreed with him.

“If you feel this good, let’s go and help Jean,” he said prickly. Matt laughed but held his fist up so Neil could bump his own into it. No ill feelings.

In just the short time it took to cross to the edge of the jungle, Neil became aware of the change. Put it down to years of hunting or being hunted, but he sensed the mass of warm bodies poised above them. They didn’t need to chatter or scream. The mere breathing of so many was enough.

Neil touched Andrew’s arm and he followed Neil’s gaze upwards. Matt noticing something was wrong, followed suit. Neil had no idea how they had arrived so silently. Perhaps they hadn’t. They had all been absorbed in restoring their bodies, during that time they had probably assembled.

Not five or ten but scores of monkeys weighed down the limbs of the jungle trees. Neil had never seen a live monkey before. These ones had orange fur and were about half the size of a full-grown human. They were staring down, watching them. Maybe it would have been a good sign, they surely wouldn’t sit around here with any other danger close by, but this crew felt ominous.

Neil armed his bow with two arrows while Andrew slid two knives free and Matt adjusted the sword in his hand. “Jean,” Matt said as calmly as possible. “I need your help with something.”

“Just a minute,” Jean replied, still occupied with the tree. “Got it. Have you got the spile?”

“I do,” Neil said in a measured voice. “But we’ve found something you better take a look at.” Jean looked up to them and instantly read the mood. He froze for a second, but Matt said, “Move quietly towards us, so you don’t startle them.”

They didn’t want Jean to notice the monkeys, or even glance their way. They were creatures that interpreted mere eye contact as aggression, and Neil knew how important it was to prevent that.

Jean turned to them, panting from his work on the tree. He picked up his trident casually and began to move through the jungle, towards them. The monkeys held their positions.

He was just five meters from the beach when he sensed them. His eyes only darted up for a second, but it was as if he had triggered a bomb. The monkeys exploded into a shrieking mass of orange fur and converged on him.

Neil had never seen any animal move so fast. They slid down the vines as if they were greased. Leaped impossible distances from tree to tree. Fangs bared, hackles raised, claws shooting out like switchblades. Neil was maybe unfamiliar with monkeys, but animals in nature didn’t act like that. “Mutts,” Neil spat out as he crashed with Andrew and Matt into the greenery.

He knew every arrow had to count, and they did. In the eerie light, Neil brought down monkey after monkey, targeting eyes and hearts and throats, so each hit meant death. But still it wouldn’t be enough without Jean and Matt spearing the beasts like fish and flinging them aside, and Andrew throwing and slashing away with his knives.

Neil felt claws on his leg, down his back, before someone took out the attacker. The air grew heavy with trampled plants, the scent of blood, and the musty stink of the monkeys. Neil, Andrew, Matt and Jean positioned themselves in a circle, a few meters apart, their backs to one another.

Neil’s heart sunk as his fingers drew back his last arrow. Then he remembered Andrew had a sheath, too. And he wasn’t shooting, he was using his knives. Neil had to use his own knife now, he had only one so throwing was no option. The monkeys were quicker than human targets, though, and moved so fast, Neil could barely react.

“Andrew!” he shouted. “Your arrows!”

And of course Andrew turned immediately to see Neil’s predicament. He was sliding down his sheath when it happened. A monkey lunged out of a tree for Andrew’s chest. Neil had no arrow, no way to shoot. He could hear the thud of Jean’s trident finding another mark and a screech as Matt pierced through a monkey, and Neil knew both of them were occupied.

Andrew’s knife arm was disabled as he tried to remove the sheath, so Neil threw his own knife at the oncoming mutt but the creature somersaults, evading the blade, and stayed on its trajectory.

Weaponless, defenseless, Neil did the only thing he could think of. He ran for Andrew, to knock him to the ground, to protect his body with his own, even though he knew he wouldn’t make it in time.

She did, though. Materializing, it seemed, from thin air. One moment nowhere, the next reeling in front of Andrew. Already bloody, mouth opened in a high-pitched scream, pupils enlarged so her eyes seemed like black holes.

Matt’s district partner, the morphling woman from District 6, threw up her skeletal arms as if to embrace the monkey, and it sunk its fangs into her chest.

Andrew dropped the sheath and buried his knife into the monkey’s back, stabbing it again and again until it released its jaw. He kicked the mutt away, bracing for more.

Neil had the arrows now, a loaded bow, and Matt at his back, breathing hard but not actively engaged. Jean turned slowly with his trident around, stabbing at the monkeys that had suddenly lost all interest. They were withdrawing, backing up trees, fading into the jungle, as if some unheard voice called them away, A Gamemaker’s voice, telling them that was enough.

“Get her,” Matt said to Jean and Andrew. “We’ll cover you.”

And for once Andrew did as he was told. Neil could see his tense jaw as he and Jean lifted up the morphling and carried her the last few meters to the beach while Matt and Neil kept their weapons ready. But except for the orange carcasses on the ground, the monkeys were gone.

They lay the morphling woman on the sand. Matt cut away the material over her chest, revealing the four deep puncture wounds. Blood slowly trickled from them, making them look far less deadly than they were. The real damage was inside. By the position of the openings, Neil felt certain the beast had ruptured something vital, a lung, maybe even her heart.

She lay on the sand, gasping like a fish out of water. And Neil felt himself tremble all over. It started in his hands and suddenly his whole body was affected. He watched as Matt kneeled beside her, holding one of her twitching hands. He talked to her. Andrew just stood there, staring down at her. Jean said something about watching the trees before walking away. Neil could do nothing.

He was holding his mother’s hand as she was hissing her last instructions into his ear. He watched Matt stroking his mother’s – no, the morphling woman’s hair. He was talking to her about colors, about home, about District 6. The morphling’s breathing was slowing into shallow catch-breaths. For a moment, her face lit up in a grin at Matt and she made a small squeaking sound. Then her blood-dappled hand went slack in Matt’s, she gave one last huff of air, and the cannon fired. Matt carried her out into the water.

Neil didn’t realize he was chattering with his teeth until someone grabbed his chin. “Neil,” a voice said. Who was Neil? “Neil,” the voice grew insistent as did the hand around his chin.

Then suddenly he was pulled down to his knees, his face trapped between warm hands and someone whispered “Abram” in his ear. Neil blinked, automatically reacting to the name. Andrew’s face came into focus, so close Neil could count his lashes.

“We—we have to burn her. No traces. Don’t leave traces,” he babbled, watching over Andrew’s shoulder as Matt returned to the beach.

“Calm down,” Andrew said, one hand slipping from Neil’s cheek to his nape. “Mom—” Neil started, but stopped when he felt the press of a thumb under his ear. “Calm down,” Andrew repeated and Neil’s eyes found Andrew’s face again.

Matt sat down beside him, he looked tired and worn out, but his eyebrows knit in a worried frown when he saw Neil. “You alright, Neil?”

Neil swallowed. “I’m—”

“Wait don’t say anything! I bet all my money he says ‘I’m fine’. You in, Minyard?” Matt interrupted him.

“I’m not stupid,” Andrew said, not leaving Neil out of his sight. He increased the pressure on the grip he had on Neil, and Neil felt his racing heart calming slightly down. He was Neil Josten from District 12, he was nineteen years old, and he was for the second time a tribute in the Hunger Games.

He watched the morphling woman floating in the water, towards the Cornucopia until a hovercraft appeared and a four-pronged claw dropped, encased her, and carried her into the night sky.

She was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neil literally died twice in his life and doesn't care. Mostly because I couldn't fit any monologues about near-death experiences in this chapter because it was already getting so long and I couldn't find the right moment to make a cut. But also Neil is down to die any second of the day so....  
> (We do not talk about Roland)


	18. Tick Tock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank my [beta](http://marbledmaven.tumblr.com/) enough!! I don't know how many times I wrote lighting instead of lightning :'D  
> Yet again no rest for Neil and his fellowship!

The three of them sat next to each other, staring out at the sea even though the morphling woman was long gone. Andrew had released Neil’s neck a while ago, but was still sitting so close their bodies were touching from shoulder to hip.

Jean returned to them, his fist full of Neil’s arrows still wet with monkey blood. He dropped them in front of Neil in the sand. “Thought you might want these.”

“Thanks,” Neil said absentmindedly. He stood up and waded into the water to wash off the gore, from his weapons, his wounds. After a moment Matt joined him, cutting off the ripped sleeves of his jumpsuit so he was wearing it short-sleeved now. In the moonlight the blood mixing with the water was barely visible and therefore made it easier for Neil to forget about his mother. The blue, warm water and white beach in the arena were nothing like the place he had buried her anyway. But the tang of blood and salt in the air made it hard to concentrate on that fact.

“I haven’t spoken to her in years,” Matt suddenly said. He was sitting in the shallow water, stroking with his thumb over the cleaned blade of his sword. It took Neil a moment to realize he was talking about the morphling woman. And it was true, while Matt had been on good terms with practically all the other victors he hadn’t even spared a glance for his own district partner.

Neil, unfamiliar with such conversations, made a noncommittal sound. It was apparently enough for Matt to continue talking. Maybe he just wanted to get it off his chest.

“She was my mentor, you know? Five years ago,” he said and continued rinsing the spotless sword. “It wasn’t even her fault. My father got me hooked after I won the Games. She only happened to use morphling as well.”

Neil paused to turn his head to Matt. Matt who noticed the sudden attention gave him a weak smile. “Yes, in District 6 people like to forget through addiction. I’m not going to lie, it felt great. I miss it, too. But I have more important things now.” He looked somewhat wistfully at the dark jungle on the other side of the water wheel, probably thinking about Dan.

“When I met Dan and she helped me getting clean, it was time to cut ties with everything that would lead me into temptation. She understood that. She couldn’t stop and didn’t want to. But she told me to be happy and to be stronger than her.” Neil could hear him stifle a sniff.

After a moment Neil said awkwardly, “Thank you.”

Matt, quickly wiping over his eyes, tilted his head puzzled. “For what?”

“For carrying me. I was only slowing Andrew down. Without you, we’d probably both be dead now. Well, without you and Jean.”

A choked laugh escaped Matt. He probably sensed Neil’s frown at that because he said after a second, “You and Andrew are really something else.” He didn’t elaborate any further, so Neil returned to the jungle to gather some moss to dry his weapons. The moss absorbed the water like a sponge. While he was busy putting the arrows back in his sheath he noticed that the monkey’s bodies had vanished.

“Where did they go?” he asked.

“We don’t know exactly. The vines shifted and they were gone,” said Jean.

They stared at the jungle, numb and exhausted. In the quiet, Neil noticed that the spots where the fog droplets had touched his skin had scabbed over. They had stopped hurting and begun to itch. Intensely. Neil tried to think of it as a good sign, they were healing. But he couldn’t help scratching at his damaged face, just as Jean and Matt did.

“Don’t scratch,” Andrew said, swatting Neil’s hand away. “You’ll only bring infection, or it will leave scars.”

Neil touched his abdomen. “You don’t like scars?”

Andrew’s silence was telling enough. He would gut Neil the next time he opened his mouth, so Neil bit down a smile and made a point of crossing his arms over his chest.

“You think it’s safe to try for the water again?” Matt asked, obviously fighting down the urge to rub his entire face against the bark of a tree.

They made their way back to the tree Jean had been tapping. Andrew, Neil and Matt stood with their weapons poised while Jean worked the spile in, but no threat appeared. Jean had found a good vein, and the water began to gush from the spile. They slaked their thirst and let the warm water pour over their itching bodies. They filled a handful of shells with drinking water and went back to the beach.

It was still night, though dawn couldn’t be too many hours away. Unless the Gamemakers wanted it to be. “You can rest,” Neil said. “I’ll watch for a while.”

“No, Neil, I’d rather,” said Matt. Neil looked him in the eyes, at his face, and realized he was barely holding back tears. The death of his district partner had hit him harder than expected. The least Neil could do was give him the privacy to mourn her.

Andrew didn’t lie down, he sat besides Neil who was lying on his back. There was no tree or rock or anything else Andrew could press his back against. And he still didn’t trust Matt enough to leave guarding completely to him. After a moment Neil turned to his side, his back to Andrew and stared into the night. What a difference a whole day could make.

Yesterday morning, Jean had been on his kill list, and now Neil was willing to sleep with him only a mere meter away. Granted, he had Andrew right beside him, but Jean had saved him. Had returned to them during the fog. Neil still didn’t know why. And then there was the morphling woman. Something bothered him about her, her death, the same way Jean’s dedication to save him disturbed him. It was an insane thought, but Neil couldn’t help wondering if she had sacrificed herself. For Andrew. That couldn’t be right. And it was too late now anyway, no sense in dwelling on it.

It was mid-morning when Neil opened his eyes again. Andrew was still beside him, dozing with a knife in his hand. Above them, a mat of grass suspended on branches shielded their faces from the sunlight.

Neil sat up and saw that Jean was already up and his hands had not been idle. Two woven bowls were filled with fresh water. A third held a mess of shellfish.

Matt and Jean sat on the sand, cracking them open with a stone. “They’re better fresh,” Jean said, ripping a chunk of flesh from a shell and popping it into his mouth. Matt had found his usual self again and tried to mimic Jean in his doing, although with a little less grace.

Neil’s stomach started to growl at the smell of food, and he reached for one. The sight of his fingernails, caked with blood, stopped him. For a second his heart stopped beating, but then he realized he had been scratching his skin raw in his sleep.

Next to him Andrew clicked with his tongue at the sight of it, and Matt said with a grin, “You know, if you scratch you’ll bring on infection.”

“So I’ve heard,” Neil muttered. He went into the salt water and washed off the blood, trying to decide which he hated more, pain or itching. Annoyed, Neil turned his face upwards and snapped, “If you don’t want to watch us flaying each other, we could use a little something for our skin.” Risky to say that, maybe they wanted to see exactly that.

But when he walked back onto the beach, Neil saw a parachute appearing above him. He reached up and the tube landed squarely in his open hand. The attached note read simply,

_ How about thank you? – W _

“About time,” Neil said, but then gave the sky a thumb up. What he wouldn’t give for five minutes of conversation with Wymack.

Neil plunked down on the sand next to Andrew and screwed the lid off the tube. Inside was a thick, dark ointment with a pungent smell, a combination of tar and pine needles. Neil squeezed a glob of the medicine on his palm and started to massage it into his hands. A sound of pleasure slipped out of his mouth as the stuff eradicated his itching. It also stained his scabby skin a ghastly gray-green. As he started on his throat and face he tossed the tube to Andrew while Matt and Jean watched Neil doubtfully.

“It’s like you’re decomposing,” said Jean.

Matt nodded in agreement. “We need your face, Neil. It’s the only way we get sponsors. Now you look and smell like moldy bread. Must be the first time in your life you’re not looking pretty.”

Andrew threw the tube purposefully against Matt’s forehead which made him screw his face up in surprise.

“It must be,” Neil replied to Matt with a cool expression. “The sensation’s completely new. How have you managed it all these years?”

Matt blinked, then burst out laughing. “Nice one, Josten.”

Really, the combination of the scabs and the ointment looked hideous. Even cool and composed Jean looked like something that had been digested once. At least Matt told him as much and Neil couldn’t help but laugh along, at Jean’s attempt to maintain a disdainful expression even more.

For a few moments Neil felt light, forgotten were the arena and the Games. He turned to Andrew who was watching him silently, the “yes or no” already on his lips. But he didn’t ask. And just when he realized why he couldn’t, a parachute landed next to them with a fresh loaf of bread. No note was attached.

Matt turned the bread over in his hands, examining the crust. A bit too possessively, surprisingly for Matt. “It’s from home,” he said. Maybe he had just thought about how precious it was, and that he may never see another loaf again. Maybe some memory of Dan or the morphling woman was associated with the crust. But all he said was, “This will go well with the shellfish, yes?”

Neil helped Jean deftly clean the meat from the shellfish, he still knew as much from his stay in District 4. Jean could probably tell, because he didn’t ask any questions. For a brief moment Neil wondered about Luther and the situation there, but quickly smothered any feelings. Luther wasn’t even worth the air he was breathing, much less Neil’s attention.

They gathered round and ate the delicious sweet flesh with the salty bread from District 6. Without much thinking Neil and Andrew fell in their old habits where they divided their portions to the other’s liking. Andrew preferred the meat, so Neil gave him more of his in exchange for bread.

They looked monstrous – the ointment seemed to be causing some of the scabs to peel – but Neil was glad for the medicine. Not just because it gave relief from the itching, but also because it acted as protection from the blazing white sun in the pink sky. Neil still had the sunburn from the day with Andrew on the roof and Roland— suddenly all appetite was gone. Andrew didn’t even know about Roland and there was no way to tell him while all of Panem was watching them. Since violently repressing memories was Neil’s whole life, he had no problem finding something to distract him from spiraling down while thinking about Roland.

By the sun’s position, Neil estimated it must be near ten o’clock; they had been in the arena for about a day. Ten tributes were dead, fourteen alive. Somewhere in the jungle, ten were concealed, four of them were Careers.

For Neil, the jungle quickly evolved from a place of protection to a sinister trap. He knew at some point they would be forced to re-enter its depth, either to hunt or be hunted, but for right now he was planning to stick to their little beach. And none of the others suggested otherwise.

For a while the jungle seemed almost static, humming, shimmering, but not flaunting its dangers. Then, in the distance, came screaming. Across from them, a wedge of the jungle began to vibrate. An enormous wave crested high on the hill, topping the trees and roaring down the slope. It hit the seawater between the spokes around the Cornucopia with such force that, even though they were as far as they could get from it, the surf bubbled up around their knees, setting their few possessions afloat. Among the four of them, they managed to collect everything before it was carried off.

A cannon fired. Neil saw the hovercraft appear over the area where the wave had begun and plucked a body from the trees. Eleven, now.

The circle of water slowly calmed down, having absorbed the giant wave. They rearranged their things back on the wet sand and were about to settle down when Neil saw them. Five figures, about two spokes away, stumbling on to the beach.

“There,” he said quietly, nodding in the newcomers’ direction. Jean, Andrew and Matt followed Neil’s gaze. As if by previous agreement, they all faded back into the shadows of the jungle.

The group was in bad shape – it was obvious even from a distance. One was being practically dragged out by two others, and the fourth one was wandering in loopy circles, as if deranged, stumbling into a wildly gesturing fifth one. They were a solid brick-red color, as if painted and left out to dry.

“Who is that?” asked Matt. “Or what? Muttations?”

Neil felt Andrew drawing a knife next to him, readying for an attack. But all that happened was that the one who was being dragged collapsed on the beach. The wildly gesturing one stamped the ground in frustration and, in an apparent fit of temper, turned and shoved the circling, deranged one over.

Matt’s face lit up. “Seth!” he called, and ran for the red things.

“Matt!” Neil heard not Seth’s, but Dan’s voice reply. She left the fallen one to Seth and the other two and ran towards Matt with her arms outstretched.

More reluctantly, Neil, Andrew and Jean followed. Neil was actually a little bit happy to see Dan, but even if he’d had a list of allies, Seth Gordon would definitely not have been on it. As they moved in closer, Neil saw Dan and Seth’s companions. It was Janie on the ground, head in Niobe’s lap, and Sola who had regained his feet to continue making loops.

When they reached them, Seth was gesturing towards the jungle and talking very fast to Matt who had Dan still pressed against his chest. “We thought it was rain, fucking rain! You know, because of the lightning, and we were all so fucking thirsty. But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood. Thick, hot blood. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t fucking speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That’s when Jay hit the fucking force field.”

“Shit, man,” Matt said, stroking Dan’s blood soaked hair, not caring that his hands turned red in the process. Neil thought he remembered Jay from District 11, but wasn’t sure.

“Yeah, well, he was a stupid asshole but he had balls of steel,” Seth said. He turned to Niobe and Janie, “Suicide got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia. And he—”

They all looked over to Sola, who was circling around, coated in dried blood, and murmuring, “Tick, tock. Tick, tock.”

“Yeah, tick, tock, Bloody Mary is in fucking shock who would have guessed,” Seth spat out. This seemed to draw Sola in his direction and he careened into Seth, who harshly shoved him to the beach. “Just stay the fuck down, will you?”

Irritated, Neil stepped forward and snapped, “Lay off him.”

Seth narrowed his brown eyes at him in hatred. “Lay off him?” he hissed. Before Neil could react, Seth slapped him so hard he saw stars. It was a mistake, though, because in the next second Seth was on his back in the sand, next to Janie, and had a knife pressed against his throat. The tip was already breaking skin and blood trickled down.

“Touch him and I will slit your throat from ear to ear,” Andrew said, voice bored, almost detached from everything if it weren’t for the dark look in his eyes. Seth had no opportunity to answer since Andrew’s other hand pressed down on his windpipe. Everyone, except for Sola, stood frozen for a few seconds until Neil moved a hand in Andrew’s line of sight and waved it lightly to get his attention. “Come on, Andrew, let him go.” Should he kill Seth, who was in an alliance with Dan and Niobe, it would put Andrew at an unnecessary risk.

Andrew ignored him in favor of pressing the knife down even harder, but then he glanced up to Neil and his eyes found the spot on Neil’s greenish skin where Seth had hit him. After another moment of consideration he let Seth go and stood up, wiping his hands on his thighs as if he had touched something despicable.

Seth coughed and apparently had a death wish. “You fucking asshole and your pet psycho! Who do you think got them out of that fucking bleeding jungle for you? You—” Matt put a hand over Seth’s mouth and together with Dan they pulled him into the water, repeatedly dunking him while he screamed a lot of really insulting things at Neil.

“What did he mean? He got them for me?” Neil asked Andrew.

Andrew shrugged. “You did want them,” he reminded Neil.

Neil looked down at Niobe who was watching them curiously, and Janie’s inert body. Niobe helped Jean lift Janie up in his arms before joining Matt, Dan and Seth in the sea. Neil put a hand on Sola’s shoulder, and they went back to their little beach camp. Neil sat Sola in the shallows so he could get washed up a bit, but he just clutched his hands together and occasionally mumbled, “Tick, tock.”

“What’s his problem?” Neil asked.

Jean pursed his lips. “He’s in shock.”

“You don’t say.” Neil rolled-his eyes. Andrew said, from where he was crouching next to Janie, “Twenty-one years ago, the Fourteenth Hunger Games, he was part of the initial bloodbath. Involuntarily. Why do you think they call him Bloody Mary?” He looked up to Neil. “You should know about mental breakdowns, shouldn’t you?”

Neil showed Andrew eloquently his middle finger before kneeling down across from him. He unhooked Janie’s belt and found a heavy metal cylinder attached to the side with a rope of vines. He couldn’t tell what it was, but if she thought it was worth saving, he wasn’t going to be the one who lost it.

Janie’s clothes were glued to her with blood, so Andrew held her in the water while Neil loosened them. It took some time to get the jumpsuit off, and then Neil found her undergarments were saturated with blood as well. There was no choice but to strip her naked to get her clean. Neil had done similar things to patch up his mother many times, so he worked quick and efficient. Andrew didn’t even bat an eye at her nudity, and Jean couldn’t be fazed either.

Jean put down his mat, and they laid Janie on her stomach so they could examine her back. There was a gash about eighteen centimeters long running from her shoulder blade to below her ribs. Fortunately, it was not too deep. She had lost a lot of blood, though – her skin was much too pale – and it was still oozing out of the wound.

Neil sat back on his heels, trying to think. What did he have to work with? Seawater? The salt had helped with their blisters, after all. He looked over at the jungle. There was probably a whole pharmacy in there if he only knew how to use it. Abby, and even Aaron had explained some healing herbs to him, but even they would have problems with the foreign flora of this arena. Neil thought about the moss he had used to dry his arrows.

“Be right back,” he told Andrew and Jean. Thankfully, the moss seemed to be pretty common in the jungle. Neil ripped an armful from the nearby trees and carried it back to the beach. He made a thick pad out of the moss, placed it on Janie’s cut, and secured it by tying vines around her body. Jean got some water into her and then he pulled her into the shade at the edge of the jungle.

By the time Neil had helped clean a still mumbling Sola who was possibly trying to tell him something with his constant “tick, tock”, a shiny clean Dan and peeling Matt had joined them. Seth and Niobe followed shortly after. For a while, the three of them gulped water and stuffed themselves with shellfish while Matt tried to coax something into Sola. He also told the others about the fog and the monkeys.

Everybody offered to guard while the others rested, but in the end, it was Dan and Neil who stayed up. While the others arranged themselves, Neil went over to Andrew. “You have to sleep, too,” he whispered. “I’ll watch out, okay?”

“You can’t even watch out for yourself,” Andrew said flatly. He turned Neil’s head so he could touch the burn scar Seth had hit earlier. “Next time I am going to kill him.”

In the end, Andrew slept next to Neil who was sitting with Dan. For a while they watched the water lap over Janie’s bloody clothes which Neil had put under stone to soak.

“What did Seth mean when he said he got you out for me?” Neil asked eventually.

Dan tilted her head thoughtfully. “It’s more like he got Janie and Sola for you. We helped him. Coach and Renee said if we were to be allies we had to bring them to you,” she said. “That’s what you told them, right?”

No, Neil thought. But he nodded his head in assent. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

She smiled at him. “You looked after Matt for me, so I guess we’re even.” It was more like the other way around, but Neil didn’t mention that.

“Tick, tock,” Neil heard behind him. He turned to see Sola had crawled over. His eyes focused on the jungle, his glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. His arrival had alarmed Andrew who was up the next moment.

“You can go to sleep,” Neil offered to Dan. Andrew would probably stay awake now, and it was unnecessary that they stood guard as a group of four. Dan who looked positively exhausted, accepted with a smile. “Have fun,” she said and went over to Matt and flung herself down beside him, using his arm as a pillow.

For a moment Neil felt inexplicably jealous at the easy closeness they could obtain between them. He looked over to Andrew who was watching Sola drifting off, stirring restlessly and occasionally sighing out his phrase. “Tick, tock.”

Neil bit his lip. “What would you do at home now?”

Andrew glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Then he looked upwards where the sun was directly over them. “Lunch break,” he said. Right, it must be noon. Across the water, off to the right, Neil saw an enormous flash as a lightning bolt hit the tree and the electrical storm began again. Right in the same area it had been last night. Someone must have moved into its range and triggered the attack.

Neil watched it for a moment before he said, “Not really what I meant, but okay.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? What did you mean then?”

Pulling his legs up and tucking his knees under his chin, Neil tried to hide the blush on his cheeks. It was unnecessary, really. The ointment made them still look like crumbly muttations. “You know what I mean.”

Neil could see Andrew’s jaw working, suppressing a smart retort in front of an audience who was probably glued to the screen right now. “I would shove your face in a pillow and try to suffocate you,” he said after another minute or so.

Neil’s heart faltered for a second before picking up a faster pace. He didn’t miss the implication of what Andrew had just said. He felt heat surging through his body and pressed his lips together. “Okay,” he replied, and he knew that Andrew knew that it was meant to be a “yes”.

They resumed silence while watching the lighting. Neil thought of last night, how the lighting had begun just after the bell had tolled. Twelve bongs.

“Tick, tock,” Sola murmured, surfacing to consciousness for a moment and then going back under. Neil tilted his head, something was prodding at his mind, something that just waited to click into place.

Next to him, Andrew suddenly got up. He turned around, surveying the arena.

“What is it?” Neil asked, looking around as well, waiting for some kind of danger to appear. At first, Andrew didn’t answer. But then he pointed to the lightningstorm. “The lightning is there,” he said. “In the next pie wedge was the blood rain, the following one was the one with the fog. The monkeys began to gather in the fourth.” His eyes found Neil’s. “Tick, tock, Neil.”

Neil’s head snapped to the other side. A couple of hours ago, at around ten, that wave had come out of the second section to the left of where the lightning struck now. At noon. At midnight. At noon.

“Tick, tock,” Sola said in his sleep. As the lightning ceased and the blood rain started just to the right of it, Neil suddenly understood.

“Oh,” Neil said under his breath.

“Tick, tock,” said Andrew. “It’s is a clock.”

 

A clock. Neil could almost see the hands ticking around the twelve-sectioned face of the arena. Each hour began a new horror, a new Gamemaker weapon, and ended the previous. Lighting, blood rain, fog, monkeys – those were the first four hours on the clock. And at ten, the wave. Neil didn’t know what happened in the other seven, but he knew Sola and Andrew were right.

At present, the blood rain was falling and they were on the beach below the monkey segment, far too close to the fog for Neil’s liking.

“Do you think the attacks stay within the jungle?” Neil asked, already doubting it.

“The wave didn’t,” was all Andrew said. So if the fog leached out of the jungle, or the monkeys returned…

Neil stood up. “Get up,” he ordered, shaking Jean, Matt and Dan awake. “Get up – we have to move.” He turned to Seth and Niobe who were already awake from the commotion.

There was enough time, though, to explain the clock theory to them. About Sola’s tick-tocking and how the movements of the invisible hands triggered a deadly force in each section.

Neil thought he had convinced everyone who was conscious except Seth, who was opposed to agreeing to anything Neil and Andrew suggested. But after Andrew told him he could just stay behind, even he was convinced it was better to be safe than sorry.

The others collected their few possessions while Neil checked his weapons. Then he put the spile in the sheath to the remaining arrows and fixed the tube of medicine to his belt with vine.

Janie was still pretty out of it, but when Niobe tried to lift her, she objected. “Wire,” she said. Apparently no one knew what she meant until Seth cut in. “Oh, I know what she wants,” he said impatiently. He crossed the beach and picked up the cylinder Neil had taken from her belt. It was coated in a thick layer of congealed blood.

“This worthless shit. It’s some kind of wire or something. That’s how she got cut. Running up to the Cornucopia to get this. I don’t know what kind of weapon it’s supposed to be. I guess you could pull off a piece and use it as a garrotte or something. But really, can you imagine Suicide garroting somebody besides herself?”

No, but Neil could imagine garroting Seth.

“She won her Games with wire. Setting up that electrical trap,” Niobe said. “It’s the best weapon she could have.”

Matt took the coil and set it on Janie’s chest. “Here you go. Watch where you plug it.”

Niobe picked up the now-unresisting Janie. “Where to?”

“Let’s go to the Cornucopia and watch. Just to make sure we’re right about the clock,” said Jean.

It seemed as good a plan as any. Besides, it wouldn’t be too bad to have a chance of going over the weapons again. And there were nine of them now. Even if Janie and Sola were counted out, they had seven good fighters. Good fighters Neil eventually had to kill or watch getting killed off. Janie and Sola would probably find some way to die on their own. If they had to run from something, how far would they get?

Seth, frankly, Neil could easily kill if it came down to protecting Andrew. Or maybe even just to shut him up. Hell, if Andrew didn’t beat him to it. Niobe he didn’t know enough, except that she was kind of pleasant to have around. Neil wouldn’t like it, but again, for Andrew he would do it.

What he really needed was for someone to take out Jean, Matt and Dan, since he didn’t think he could do it personally. Not after all they had done for him and Andrew. Especially Jean and Matt. Andrew would probably kill Dan without hesitating. But Neil knew how Andrew worked, he felt like he owed both Jean and Matt for saving Neil. Maybe they had to maneuver them into some kind of encounter with the Careers. It was cold, Neil was aware of as much. But what were his options? Now that they knew about the clock, they probably wouldn’t die in the jungle, so someone had to kill them in battle. Andrew would also do as much for Neil, but Neil didn’t want him to. And Neil didn’t want to kill them for Andrew, either. Even if he knew he most likely would.

Because it was so repellent to think about, Neil’s mind frantically tried to change topics. But the only two things that distracted him from his current situation was either thinking about some place called  _ home _ , with Andrew pressing him down in his bed, or fantasizing about killing Riko and his whole family.

They walked down the nearest sand strip, approaching the Cornucopia with care, just in case the Careers were concealed there. Neil doubted they were, because they had been on the beach for hours and there had been no sign of life. And the area was abandoned, as Neil had expected. Only the big golden horn and the picked-over pile of weapons remained.

When Niobe laid Janie in the bit of shade the Cornucopia provided, Janie called out to Sola. He crouched beside her and she put the coil of wire in his hands. “Clean it, will you?” she asked. Sola nodded, pushed his glasses up and went over to the water’s edge, where he dunked the coil in the water. He started quietly reciting some children’s rhyme, about a mouse running up a clock.

In the meantime, Neil added a few more arrows to his stock and helped Andrew find good throwing knives that they tested for a moment at the Cornucopia’s sun-softened outer wall. Andrew was extremely good so he kept up almost effortlessly with Neil. Dan poked around as well until she came up with two pairs of lethal-looking axes. She and Niobe threw them with such force, they also stuck in the gold of the horn. Seth tried out a spear and a few swords before sticking with a shortsword.

While they had been messing with the weapons, Jean had been squatting on the ground, drawing something with the tip of his knife on a large, smooth leaf he had brought from the jungle.

Neil looked over his shoulder, and saw he was creating a map of the arena. In the center was the Cornucopia on its circle of sand with twelve strips branching out from it. It looked like a pie sliced into twelve equal wedges. There was another circle representing the waterline and a slightly larger one indicating the edge of the jungle.

“Look how the Cornucopia’s positioned,” he said to no one in particular.

“The tail points towards twelve o’clock,” Matt said.

“Right, so this is the top of our clock.” Jean quickly scratched the numbers one through twelve around the clock face. “Twelve to one is lightning zone.” He wrote  _ lightning _ in tiny print in the corresponding wedge, then worked clockwise adding  _ blood _ ,  _ fog _ and  _ monkeys _ to the following sections.

“Ten to eleven is the wave,” Neil said. Jean added it. The others joined them at this point, armed to the teeth with more axes and knives.

They still had seven unclear wedges, but it was a lot more than they had known this morning. They all studied the map for another moment until Neil noticed it. The silence.

He didn’t wait. Neil grabbed for one of Andrew’s throwing knives as he twisted and got a glimpse of a dripping-wet Nero letting Sola slide to the ground, his throat slit open in a bright red smile. The tip of Neil’s knife disappeared into Nero’s right temple, and in the instant it took Neil to go for his bow, Dan had buried an axe blade in the District 4 woman’s chest. Matt knocked away a spear Titus had thrown at Neil and barely avoided Epona’s knife in his thigh. If there hadn’t have been a Cornucopia to duck behind, they’d have been dead.

Neil sprung forward in pursuit. The cannon fired three times, confirming there was no way to help Sola, no need to finish off Nero or the woman from District 4.

They all were rounding the horn, starting to give chase to Titus and Epona, who were sprinting down a sand strip towards the jungle.

Suddenly the ground jerked beneath Neil’s feet, and he was flung on his side in the sand. The circle of land that held the Cornucopia started spinning fast, really fast, and he could see the jungle going by in a blur. He felt the centrifugal force pulling him towards the water and dug his hands and feet into the sand, trying to get some purchase on the unstable ground. Between the flying sand and the dizziness, Neil had to squeeze his eyes shut. There was literally nothing he could do but hold on until, with no deceleration, everything slammed to a stop.

Coughing and queasy, Neil sat up slowly to find the others in the same condition. Andrew was the closest to him, so Neil crawled over. Besides them, Jean, Matt, Dan, Seth and Niobe had hung on. The three dead bodies had been tossed out into the seawater.

They sat there panting, scraping the sand out of their mouths.

“Where’s Janie?” asked Jean. Quickly, they were on their feet. One wobbly circle of the Cornucopia confirmed she was gone. Dan spotted her about twenty meters out in the water, only kept afloat by the belt. Jean didn’t wait, he dived in the water and swam out to haul her in.

That was when Neil remembered the wire and how important it was to her. He looked around. Where was it? Then he saw it, still clutched in Sola’s hands, far out in the water. His stomach contracted at the thought of what he had to do next.

“Cover me,” he said to Andrew who immediately reached out to stop Neil, but he was too slow. Neil tossed aside his weapons and raced down the strip closest to Sola’s body. Without slowing down, Neil dived into the water and started for him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the hovercraft appearing over them, the claw starting to descend to take Sola away. But Neil didn’t stop. He just kept on swimming as hard as he could and ended up slamming into Sola’s body. He came up gasping, trying to avoid swallowing the bloodstained water that spread out from the open wound in Sola’s neck.

As Neil treaded water, he had to wrench the coil of wire from Sola’s fingers, because his final grip on it was so tight. He then swam away hurriedly. By the time he swung the coil up on to sand and pulled himself from the water, Sola’s body was gone. But Neil could still taste his blood mingled with the sea salt.

“Do  _ not _ do that ever again,” Andrew said dangerously low from where he was standing a meter or so away.

“I’m—”

“If you say ‘fine’ I will slaughter you right here and now.”

Neil closed his opened mouth like a fish and simply stared unblinkingly at Andrew. Andrew was the first to turn around and walk back to the Cornucopia. Neil ran after him until they walked side by side, fingers brushing against one another for the briefest of moments.

Jean got Janie out with little to no harm. Neil placed the wire on her lap, it was sparkling clean, no blood left at all. She unraveled a piece of the wire and ran it through her fingers. It was unlike any wire Neil knew. A pale golden color and as fine as a piece of hair. The look on Janie’s face indicated that her thoughts were with Sola, though.

Now Janie, Matt and Seth had all lost their district partners. Niobe hugged Dan for a moment and Neil’s eyes darted to Andrew.

“Let’s get off this fucking island,” Seth said finally. They were lucky and had largely retained their weapons. The spile was still in Neil’s sheath and the vines were strong enough so the tube of medicine was stilled fixed to his belt.

Janie thought she could walk now, if they went slowly, so Dan and Niobe helped her. They decided to head to the beach at twelve o’clock. That should provide hours of calm and keep them clear of any poisonous residue. And then Seth, Matt and Jean headed off in three different directions.

“Twelve o'clock, right?” said Matt. “The tail points to twelve.”

“Before they spun us,” said Jean. “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Jean,” Neil said.

“I think Neil’s point is, knowing the time doesn’t mean you necessarily know where four is on the clock. You might have a general idea of the direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ring of jungle as well,” Janie chimed in.

Neil wouldn’t have expressed it in such an articulated way, but yes, that was basically his point. Any of these paths could lead to twelve o’ clock.

They circled around the Cornucopia, scrutinizing the jungle. It had an annoying uniformity. Neil remembered the tall tree that took the first lightning strike at twelve o'clock, but every sector had a similar tree. Seth thought to follow Epona’s and Titus’ tracks, but they had been blown and washed away. There was no way to tell where anything was.

After a while they just gave up and agreed on waiting for the ten o’clock wave to find their way again. They randomly chose a path, without a single clue what number they were headed for.

When they reached the jungle, they peered into it, trying to decipher what may be waiting inside.

Matt shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there.”

Neil decided to go with Jean to tap a tree while the others set a temporary camp. Andrew caught Neil’s wrist before he could go off and gave him a long-lasting look. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he said. He would stay back, watching over the others. Apparently he trusted Jean enough now to leave Neil alone with him.

“I would never,” Neil replied saucily.

Suddenly Andrew grabbed for Neil’s chin, pressing his thumb and forefinger in both of Neil’s cheeks, so he was forced to make some kind of fish-mouth and couldn’t move his lips anymore.

“I mean it,” Andrew said lowly in Neil’s ear before letting go.

 

Neil followed Jean about fifteen meters into the jungle, where he found a good tree and started stabbing to make a hole with his knife.

Neil stood there, weapons ready, and tried not to think about Andrew.

“Neil, got the spile?” Jean asked after a while, snapping Neil successfully back to reality, where Andrew’s hands were certainly not touching the ugly scar on his abdomen he had sustained after a long and painful fall three years ago.

Neil cut the vine that tied the spile to his belt and held it out to Jean.

That was when he heard the scream. So full of fear and pain it iced Neil’s blood for a moment. A young girl, unfamiliar to Neil’s ears.

But not to Jean’s. He dropped the spile and took off in a wild run in the direction of the voice, heedless of danger, ripping through vines and branches, through anything in his way.

After the initial shock, Neil followed him, calling out for him. “Jean, wait!”

It was no effort to track him, even though he was moving fast with his long legs, since he left a clear, trampled path in his wake. The scream led them uphill and by the time Neil reached Jean, he was winded. For some unfathomable reason the girl’s shrieks emanated from somewhere in the foliage. Neil looked up, puzzled, while Jean wandered mindlessly around shouting over and over. “Lucie! Lucie!” He was in a state of panic and completely unreachable.

That was when Neil found the source of the scream. It was coming from the mouth of a small, crested black bird perched on a branch in a giant tree above them. A muttation.

There was nothing about the bird that suggested it was a mutt. Nothing except the horribly lifelike sounds of a girl’s voice streaming from its mouth. Neil silenced it with an arrow in its throat. The bird fell to the ground. Neil removed his arrow and wrung its neck for good measure.

“Jean?”

Jean looked at the bird, picked it up and slowly made the connection. But the look on his face was more despairing than ever.

“It’s fine, Jean. It’s just a muttation. They’re playing a trick on you,” Neil said. “It’s not real. It’s not your… Lucie.”

“No, it’s not Lucie. But the voice was hers. I know these birds, they mimic what they hear. Where did they get those screams?” Jean said.

Neil had no answer. And then suddenly he heard a scream, loud and clear. At first he couldn’t place the voice, he had never heard it like that. Not even after walking in a serrated trap in the arena. It was Andrew. And this wasn’t a bird, Neil was sure.

Jean caught his arm before Neil could run. “No. It’s not him.” He started pulling Neil downhill, towards the beach. “We’re getting out of here!”

But this was Andrew, and Andrew was  _ here _ in the arena, and he sounded like he was being ripped apart. What was happening to him? For him to actually scream? Neil couldn’t think rationally anymore. He struggled to reach Andrew.

“It’s not him, Neil! It’s a mutt!” Jean shouted at him. “Come on!”

He moved Neil along, half dragging, half carrying Neil. And then Neil caught sight of Andrew. Unharmed. He stood at the tree line with the others and Neil was overcome with relief. And then confusion. Why didn’t they come to help them? Even now they hung back, hands raised, palms towards Jean and Neil, lips moving but no words were reaching them. Why?

The wall was so transparent, Neil and Jean smacked into it and bounced back on the jungle floor. So this was why they hadn’t come looking for them. An invisible barrier blocked the area in front of them.

It was not a force field, Neil was able to touch the hard, smooth surface. But Andrew’s knives, Dan’s axe and Matt’s sword couldn’t make a dent in it. Neil knew, without checking more than a meter to one side, that it enclosed the entire four-to-five-o’clock wedge. That they would be trapped like rats until the hour passed.

Andrew pressed his hand against the surface and Neil put his own up to meet it, as if he could feel him through the wall. The mutt was still screaming in Andrew’s voice and even though Neil knew,  _ knew _ it couldn’t be real, he just stared at Andrew’s face, doing his best to hang on to his sanity.

Then the other birds began to arrive. One by one. Perching in the surrounding branches. And a carefully orchestrated chorus of horror started to spill out of their mouths.

Jean gave up at once, hunching on the ground, clenching his hands over his ears as if he was trying to crush his skull. Neil tried to fight for a while. Emptying his quiver of arrows into the birds. But every time one dropped dead, another quickly took its place. And finally Neil gave up and curled up beside Jean, trying to block out the excruciating sounds of Nicky, Abby, Allison, Renee, Wymack, Rena, Coach Hernandez, even Aaron. And Roland.

Neil knew it had stopped when he felt Andrew’s hands on him, and a whispered, “Yes or no?” to his ear. Neil could only nod, but was aware Andrew needed an actual yes from him, so he managed one from his gritted teeth. He was being lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But Neil stayed with his eyes forced shut, hands over his ears, muscles too rigid to release. Who would have thought there were so many people that could be considered his weakness?

He felt himself being squeezed between Andrew’s legs, back pressed against Andrew’s chest, just like during their last night in the arena. Caught on top of the Cornucopia while Gorilla had been eaten alive beneath them. There was a hand in his hair.

It took a long time before he could relax the iron grip on his body. And when he did, the trembling began.

“It wasn’t real,” Andrew said from behind him.

Neil stared at Jean who was lying on his side, his eyes vacant of anything while he was staring back at Neil. “I know,” Neil said. He knew, because Andrew was sitting right here, and not in some laboratory where Riko or his father tortured him until he made those sounds.

“It’s not that difficult to distort someone’s regular voice into something else,” Janie said quietly.

Seth scoffed. “Of course they wouldn’t start hurting little girls now. At least outside of the arena.” They had probably heard the first few screams of the girl. “Especially if it’s Moreau’s little sister. It was her, right?”

Jean didn’t answer.

“Yeah, thought so,” Seth said. “If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on their hands. Don’t want that, do they?” He threw back his head and shouted, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

Matt’s mouth opened in shock. Of course, no one, ever, said anything like that in the Games. Absolutely, they had to be cutting away from Seth, were editing him out. But they all had heard him, and Neil couldn’t help thinking that he was gutsy. Or crazy.

Seth picked up some shells and headed towards the jungle. “I’m getting water.”

While Seth and Niobe collected water and Neil’s arrows, Janie fiddled with her wire, and Jean took to the water. Neil needed to clean up, too, but he stayed between Andrew’s legs, not feeling like moving. A year ago this would have been unthinkable. He had had no other choice but to continue moving, never looking back or lingering on the loss of his mother. Now he felt the luxury of being held, of being able to stop, even if only for a moment, to get his head clear again.

“Who is Lucie?” he asked Matt and Dan after a while.

Dan looked up from where she was studying the new map they had drawn after the other had been lost on the spinning Cornucopia.

“Lucie Moreau. Jean’s little sister,” she said. “No one knew he even had one until they interviewed her during Jean’s Games. I think he saw her on his Victory Tour after years of being separated again.”

Neil tried to remember Jean’s Hunger Games from two years ago. He had already been living in District 12 then. And yes, he thought he had seen an interview with a girl back then, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old. The same black hair and blue eyes as her brother, but she hadn’t been sold. Yet. As long as Jean could pay for his family’s failures.

Dan added  _ birds _ to the four-to-five-o’clock section. They now had a good idea of what six of the hours would bring. And if there was any positive to the mutt-bird attack, it was that it let them know where they were on the clock face again.

Jean wove yet another water basket and a net for fishing. Neil took a quick swim and let Andrew put more ointment on his face and hands. Then they sat at the edge of the water, Neil cleaning the fish Jean caught and watching the sun drop below the horizon. The bright moon was already on the rise, filling the arena with that strange twilight.

They were about to settle down to their meal of raw fish when the anthem began.

Nero. Sola. The woman from District 4. The morphling woman who had given her life for Andrew. Jay. And another man from District 11.

Six dead. Plus the eight from the first night. Besides Titus and Epona, their group was the only left.  

A parachute came down with a pile of bite-sized square-shaped rolls. “Oh, they’re from District 3,” Janie said. “How many are there?”

Matt counted them, turning each one over in his hands before he sat it in a neat configuration. Neil didn’t know what it was with Matt and bread, but he seemed obsessed with handling it. “Twenty-four,” he said.

“An even two dozen, then?” asked Janie.

“Twenty-four on the nose,” said Matt. “Three for each of us.”

They waited until the giant wave had flooded out of the ten-to-eleven-o’clock section, waited for the water to recede, and then went to that beach to make camp. Theoretically, they should have a full twelve hours of safety from the jungle.

There was an unpleasant chorus of clicking, probably from some evil type of insect, coming from the eleven-to-twelve-o’clock wedge. But whatever was making the sound stayed within the confines of the jungle and they kept off that part of the beach in case they were just waiting for a carelessly placed footfall to swarm out.

Neil had no idea how Dan was still on her feet. She had only had about an hour of sleep since the Games had started. Neil and Andrew volunteered for the first watch because they were better rested, and because Neil wanted some time alone.

The others fell asleep immediately, although Jean’s sleep was restless. For the first time Neil noticed the fine scars on his face and the thicker ones vanishing under the neck of his jumpsuit. They stood out in the silvery pale moonlight.

He and Andrew sat on the damp sand, facing away from each other, Neil’s right shoulder and hip pressed against Andrew’s. Neil watched the water as Andrew watched the jungle, which was better for Neil. He was still haunted by the voices of the muttations, which not even the insects could drown out. After a while Neil rested his head against Andrew’s shoulder and felt a hand in his neck.

“Neil,” he said then, waiting for Neil’s attention.

“Hm?” Neil murmured, trying not to doze off.

“It’s no use pretending we don’t know what the other one is trying to do.”

No, Neil guessed there wasn’t, but he didn’t want to discuss it, either. Well,  _ he _ didn’t. But the Capitol viewers sure would love to hear some honest heart to heart between them.

“I don’t know what kind of deal you think you’ve made with Coach, but he made me promises as well. Like you did,” Andrew said. It was unusual for him to start such a conversation.

Neil bit his lip. “He didn’t make me any promises. Not really. A compromise.”

“That involves you and your martyr complex, I bet,” Andrew scoffed. “Stop it.”

“I can’t,” Neil said, stubbornly. “It’s not right, you—” He felt Andrew’s hand pressing down on his mouth. “I said stop it.”

In a childish attempt to break free, Neil licked over the palm of Andrew’s hand, and he pulled it instantly back as if burned. “What are you? Five?” he asked unimpressed, wiping the spit on Neil’s cheek.

And suddenly Neil didn’t care anymore. He didn’t want to talk about who would die for the other, he didn’t want to think about who was watching them right now. This might as well be his last hours with Andrew, and why should he waste them for some false sense of privacy Riko had long since destroyed?

“Andrew,” he said, turning his head so he could look at him. “Yes or no?”

For a long moment, Andrew stayed silent. Neil was about to turn back around, settling for just resting his head against Andrew, when Andrew said, “Yes.”

Neil kept his hands under his thighs when he leaned in to kiss Andrew. Andrew’s hand found Neil’s hair, and he started to comb his fingers through the, from sun and saltwater, brittle locks. Neil couldn’t help the small whimper at the familiar sensation of it and the feeling of safety it brought.

The good feeling inside him grew warmer and spread out from his chest, down through his body, out along his arms and legs. It was like so often with Andrew, the kisses didn’t satisfy Neil, instead they made his need greater.

It was the first crack of the lightning storm – the bolt hitting the tree at midnight – that brought them to their senses. It roused Jean as well. He sat up with a choked moan. Neil saw his fingers digging into the sand as he reassured himself that whatever nightmare he had inhabited wasn’t real.

“I can’t sleep anymore,” Jean said. “One of you should rest.” Then he seemed to be reading the mood, even though Andrew had let go of Neil’s hair and Neil’s hands were still secured beneath him. For a moment there was an awkward silence, in which Neil thought he could hear Allison’s triumphant shouting while she collected her money somewhere in the Games Headquarters.

“Lie down,” Andrew said then, pushing Neil away. Neil didn’t object because he had to sleep if he was to be of any use keeping Andrew alive. He let Andrew lead him over to where the others were. When Neil lay down and Andrew pressed his hand on Neil’s left side quickly, Neil barely registered the gentle press of fingers. Then Andrew walked back to Jean, leaving Neil with nothing but the lingering feeling of his lips against his own.

 

When Neil woke, he had a brief, delicious feeling of comfort that was somehow connected with Andrew. Comfort, of course, was a complete absurdity at this point, since at the rate things were going, Neil would be dead in a day. And that was the best case scenario, if he was able to eliminate the rest of the field, including himself, and got Andrew crowned as the winner of the Anniversary Year.

Still, the sensation was so unfamiliar and surprisingly good Neil clung to it, if only for a few moments. Before the gritty sand, the hot sun and his itching skin demanded a return to reality.

Everyone was already up and watching the descent of a parachute to the beach. Neil joined them for another delivery of bread. It was identical to the one they had received the night before. Twenty-four bread rolls from District 3. Three for each of them.

Neil sat next to Andrew in the sand to eat his rolls. He couldn’t help the staring, remembering the kiss that felt so much better than the memories he had relived since their last time, when Andrew had gotten him off against the bedroom wall. Last year a kiss like that would have probably given them ten parachutes with food, medicine and everything they could have needed. This year, Riko wouldn’t allow for such things.

Neil’s eyes wandered over to where Dan and Matt shared their bread rolls, Matt’s head in Dan’s lap, laughing. If he saw her like that, he couldn’t believe she had killed a woman by burying an axe in her chest. Niobe and Seth had guard duty, watching out over water and jungle. For some reason, Jean and Janie had built an unexpected friendship where they didn’t talk much but simply enjoyed the other’s presence.

It was getting too crowded. Besides Titus and Epona, they were the last remaining players. If they were done with the Careers, this alliance would break. And Neil wanted Andrew to be as far away as possible when that happened.

After they had eaten, Neil stood up. “Come on. I’ll show you how to catch a fish with your bare hands.” He needed to get Andrew away from the others where they could discuss breaking away. It would be tricky, because once the others realized they were severing the alliance, they’d be instant targets.

They went away from the others with the excuse that they needed undisturbed waters. At first, Neil noticed Seth keeping a careful eye on them, but eventually he lost interest and went to take a nap. Jean was weaving a new net next to Janie who was playing with the wire. Dan and Matt kept watch and Niobe joined Seth for a nap. The time had come.

While Neil had been actually attempting to catch some fish, Andre had discovered that their remaining scabs were starting to peel off. By gently rubbing a handful of sand over his hands, the rest of the scales cleaned off, revealing fresh new skin underneath. It was all Neil needed to step closer to Andrew, so they could scrub themselves and talk.

“The pool is down to ten,” Neil started. Andrew rubbed over his nose which made Neil wrinkle it.

“Time to take off,” Andrew said, reading Neil’s thoughts. Neil nodded, placing his hand left and right on Andrew’s cheeks to wipe away the last bits of sand and scab.

“Let’s stick around until One and Two are dead,” Andrew said. Meaning Titus and Epona. “Three’s trying to put together some kind of trap for them now. Afterwards we’ll go.”

Neil wasn’t entirely convinced, but if they left now, they’d have even more adversaries after them.

“Fine,” he agreed. “We’ll stay until the Careers are dead. But that’s the end of it.”

Neil turned and waved to Jean and Matt. “Come on, Matt! We figured out a way to make you look bearable again!”

Matt came over, grinning and playfully threatening to dunk Neil a few times. Jean was a little slower, and with some sort of feeling of guilt, Neil watched as they scoured all the scabs from their bodies.

Hopefully the Careers would be good enough to take them both out, Neil was now dead certain he couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andrew: I want to kill you dead  
> Neil: and then what ;)  
> Can't believe they flirt like that, but they do. And Jean. Oh Jean Jean Jean, my son. I gave him a little sister because I am convinced Jean would be a great older brother (haha except that he wasn't allowed to see her for six years :))) fuck u Riko)  
> Next chapter will be the last for part 2!


	19. The Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we reached the final of part 2!   
> You guys are amazing for sticking around for so long. Thank you so so much!

Jean insisted they apply another round of medicine because their new skin seemed too delicate for the sunlight, but it didn’t look half as bad on smooth skin and would be good camouflage in the jungle.

Janie called them over, and it turned out that during all those hours of fiddling with wire she had indeed come up with a plan.

“I think we all agree our next job is to kill Titus and Epona,” she said mildly. “I doubt they’ll attack us openly again, now that they’re so outnumbered. We could track them down, I suppose, but it’s dangerous, exhausting work.”

“Do you think they’ve figured out about the clock?” Dan asked.

“If they haven’t, they’ll figure it out soon enough. Perhaps not as specifically as we have. But they must at least know that at least some of the zones are wired for attacks and that they’re reoccurring in a circular fashion,” said Janie. “So I think our best bet will be setting our own trap.”

She stood up and shooed them all back a bit so she could have room to work in the sand. She swiftly drew a circle and divided it into twelve wedges, another map of the arena.

“If you were Titus and Epona, knowing what you do now about the jungle, where would you feel safest?” she asked.

“Where we are now. On the beach,” said Matt. “It’s the safest place.”

“So why aren’t they on the beach?” Janie asked again.

“Because we’re here,” Seth snapped impatiently.

Janie couldn’t be ruffled, though. She simply continued, “Exactly. We’re here, claiming the beach. Now where would they go?”

Neil thought about the deadly jungle, the occupied beach. “I’d hide just at the edge of the jungle. So I could escape if an attack came. And so I could spy on us.”

“Also to eat,” Niobe added. “The jungle’s full of strange creatures and plants. But by watching us, they know the seafood is safe.”

Janie nodded. “Yes, good. Now here’s what I propose: a twelve o’clock strike.”

Matt tapped with his forefinger against his chin. “When the lightning bolt hits the tree?”

“Yes. So what I’m suggesting is that after the bolt hits at noon, but before it hits at midnight, we run my wire from that tree all the way down into the saltwater, which is, of course, highly conductive. When the bolt strikes, the electricity will travel down the wire and into not only the water but also the surrounding beach with the damp sand from the ten o’clock wave. Anyone in contact with those surfaces at that moment will be electrocuted,” Janie explained.

There was a long pause while they all digested Janie’s plan.

Eventually Jean took a stab at it. “Will that wire really be able to conduct that much power? It looks way too fragile, like it would just burn up.”

“It will. But not until the current has passed through it. It will act something like a fuse, in fact. Except the electricity will travel along it,” said Janie.

“How do you know?” Seth asked, clearly not convinced.

“Because Sola and I invented it,” she said, tilting her head as if slightly surprised. “It’s not actually wire in the usual sense. Nor is the lightning natural lightning, nor the tree a real tree. Dan and Niobe know trees better than any of us, right? It would be destroyed by now, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” Niobe said and Dan nodded in assent.

“Don’t worry about the wire – it will do just what I say,” Janie assured them.

“And where will we be when this happens?” asked Jean.

“Far enough up in the jungle to be safe.”

They fell silent again.

“All the seafood will be cooked, though,” Matt pointed out.

“Probably more than cooked,” said Janie. “We will most likely be eliminating that as a food source for good. But you found other edible things in the jungle, Neil?”

“Nuts and rats,” Neil replied. “And we have sponsors.”

“Well, then. I don’t see that as a problem.”

Neil looked at the others’ disconcerted faces. Andrew was the only one who wasn’t frowning or seem to be lost. He watched Janie instead, and then looked over to Matt and Jean. At last his eyes found Neil, blank as ever, and said, “Why not? If it fails, there’s no harm done.”

Neil blinked a little in surprise. But then he nodded. “Let’s try it.” Niobe was the first to agree with him.

Matt looked at Dan, then at Jean and Seth with his eyebrows raised. Apparently he wouldn’t go forward without them. “Alright,” Dan said finally and Jean nodded in agreement. Seth only shrugged. “Whatever.”

Janie wanted to inspect the lightning tree before she had to rig it. Judging by the sun, it was about nine in the morning. They had to leave their beach soon, anyway. So they broke camp, walked over to the beach that bordered the lightning section and headed into the jungle.

Janie was still too weak to hike up the slope on her own, so Niobe and Matt took turns carrying her. Jean took the lead, and Neil and Andrew brought up the rear.

The dense, muggy air weighed on Neil. There had been no break from it since the Games had begun. Neil wished Wymack would stop sending them the District 3 bread and get them some more from District 6, because he had sweated out buckets in the last two days, and even though he had eaten fish, he was craving salt. A piece of ice would be another good idea. Or a cold drink of water. Everything in the arena was just one big, warm stew.

As they neared the tree, Jean suggested Andrew take the lead, because he had done such a good job last time. So he and Neil gathered nuts and made everyone else wait while they moved slowly up the slope, tossing the nuts ahead of them. But Neil saw the force field almost immediately, even before a nut hit it, because it was only about fifteen meters away. His eyes, which were sweeping the greenery before him, caught sight of the rippled square high up to his right. Neil threw a nut directly in front of him and heard it sizzle in confirmation.

“Just stay below the lightning tree,” Neil told the others after he and Andrew were done with their round. It was barely noticeable, but Andrew looked tense, from his shoulders to the curve of his mouth. Neil wanted to ask what was going on, but not in front of everyone.

They divided up duties. Jean, Dan and Niobe guarded Janie while she examined the tree, Seth and Matt tapped for water, and Neil and Andrew gathered nuts and hunted nearby. The tree rats didn’t seem to have any fear of humans, so Neil and Andrew took down five easily. The sound of the ten o’clock wave reminded them they should get back, and they returned to the others, where Neil cleaned the kill.

Andrew drew a line in the dirt a meter from the force field as a reminder to keep back. Afterwards Neil settled down with him to roast nuts and sear cubes of rat.

Janie was still messing around the tree, taking measurements and such. At one point she snapped off a sliver of bark, joined Neil and Andrew and threw it against the force field. It bounced back and landed on the ground, glowing. In a few moments it returned to its original color.

“That explains a lot,” she muttered. Neil looked at Andrew puzzled, but Andrew was watching Janie attentively. It was hard to tell with Andrew’s default expression of boredom, but he was thinking about something. Neil was curious, but again, even if they had kissed in the arena, Neil wasn’t interested in revealing any accidental truths.

About that time they heard the sound of clicks rising from the sector adjacent to them. That meant it was eleven o’clock. It was far louder in the jungle than it had been on the beach last night. They listened intently.

“It’s not mechanical,” Janie said decidedly.

“I’d guess insects,” Neil said. “Maybe beetles.”

“Something with pincers,” added Dan.

The sound swelled, as if alerted by their quiet words to the proximity of live flesh. Whatever was making that clicking, Neil was sure it could strip a human to the bone in seconds.

“We should get out of here, anyway,” said Seth. “There’s less than an hour before the lightning starts.”

They didn’t go that far, though. Only to the identical tree in the blood-rain section. They had a picnic of sorts, squatting on the ground, eating the rat and nuts, waiting for the bolt that signaled noon.

At Janie’s request, Neil climbed up into the canopy as the clicking began to fade out. When the lightning struck, it was dazzling, even from where Neil was and in the bright sunlight. It completely encompassed the distant tree, making it glow a hot blue-white and causing the surrounding air to crackle with electricity.

Neil swung down and reported his findings to Janie, who seemed satisfied, even if Neil was not terribly scientific.

They packed up and went back to the ten o’clock beach. The sand was smooth and damp, swept clean by the recent wave. Janie essentially gave them the afternoon off while she worked with the wire. Since it was her weapon and the rest of them had to defer to her knowledge so entirely, there was the odd feeling of being let out of school early. Not that Neil would know much about that, his academic career had found its end when he had turned ten, and he had never gotten out early. Hadn’t even wanted to. Every second away from home had been a gift.

At first they took turns having naps in the shadowy edge of the jungle, but by late afternoon everyone was awake and restless. With the exception of Andrew, of course.

They decided, since this might be their last chance for seafood, to make a sort of feast of it. Now Neil could actually show Andrew how to catch fish with only his hands while the others speared fish and gathered shellfish under Jean’s guidance. After a while Jean asked if Neil wanted to dive for oysters, and Neil agreed.

He liked that part actually the best. Not because he had any great appetite for oysters. He had only ever tasted them once, during a party in his father’s house, and not only had Neil not gotten around the sliminess, but also his father hadn’t liked how Neil had not liked them.

But it was amazing, deep down under the water, like being in a different world. The water was very clear, and schools of bright-hued fish and strange sea flowers decorated the sand floor.

Seth and Niobe kept watch while Jean, Matt, Dan, Neil and Andrew cleaned and laid out the seafood. Neil pried open an oyster and blinked when he found a glistening, perfect pearl about the size of a pea. He held it up, in the sunlight and examined its iridescent surface. Then he rinsed it off and said, “Hey, Andrew.”

Andrew looked up and in the next moment Neil tossed him the pearl. “For you.” Andrew caught it reflexively and held it out on his palm. “And what am I supposed to do with it?”

“Keep it,” Neil replied with a shrug. “I never got you anything for your birthday anyway.”

“That was eight months ago,” Andrew said flatly.

“Better late than never.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes imperceptibly. “No,” he said and moved to give it back.

“Too late! You can’t give presents back!” Neil jumped to his feet to get out of Andrew’s reach.

“Get your ass back down here, Josten, or I’ll shove this fucking pearl down your throat.”

“Dude, we’re live on TV,” Matt said with a grin. “Do that stuff in the jungle.” Dan snickered beside him and Jean looked somewhat uncomfortable. He was probably having flashbacks to last night.

Andrew slipping a hand under his armbands was enough to shut them up, though, and they hastily turned back to their work. Neil settled back down besides Andrew, but closed Andrew’s fingers around the pearl.

“I know you like shiny, pretty things,” Neil said casually and Dan let out a snort, but quickly caught herself at Matt’s elbow in her ribs. “So keep it. It won’t bite you.”

Andrew glared at Neil now, like he really wanted to carry out his threat. But then he simply offered Neil his open palm with the pearl. “I don’t have anything to put it into. Take it.”

Hiding a smile behind his hand, Neil let the pearl slip in his quiver and said, “I’ll give it back to you.” He wouldn’t. But he hoped someone would find it on his body and give it to Andrew.

Just when they were about to eat, a parachute appeared bearing two supplements to their meal. A small pot of spicy red sauce and yet another round of rolls from District 3. Matt, of course, immediately counted them. “Twenty-four again,” he said.

The salty fish flesh, the succulent shellfish and even the oysters were tasty, vastly improved by the sauce. They gorged themselves until no one could hold another bite, and even then there were leftovers. As they wouldn’t keep, they tossed all the remaining food back into the water so the Careers wouldn’t get it when they left.

There was nothing to do but wait. Andrew and Neil sat at the edge of the water, their bodies touching from shoulder to hip, wordless. A shared cigarette would be nice, but as it was they simply breathed in one rhythm and watched the sun set. Neil had the pearl, secured between arrows and the spile in his quiver. He hoped it made it back to District 12, along with Andrew.

The anthem began, but there were no faces in the sky tonight. The audience would be restless, thirsting for blood. Janie’s trap held enough promise, though, that the Gamemakers hadn’t sent in other attacks. Perhaps even Riko was simply curious to see if it would work.

At what Neil judged to be around nine, they left their camp, crossed to the twelve o’clock beach and started to quietly hike up to the lightning tree in the light of the moon. Neil’s full stomach made him more uncomfortable and breathless than he had been on the morning’s climb.  Glancing at the others he found they weren’t faring any better, except for Jean who had shown some sort of restraint during their private little feast.

Janie asked Niobe to assist her, and the rest of them stood guard. Before she even attached any wire to the tree, Janie unrolled meters and meters of it. She had Niobe secure it tightly around a broken branch and laid it to the ground. Then they stood on either side of the tree, passing the spool back and forth as they wrapped the wire around and around the trunk.

They completed their work just as Neil heard the wave begin. The sky told him it was ten-thirty, so Neil assumed there was some build-up, then the wave itself, and then some aftermath of the flooding.

This was when Janie revealed the rest of the plan. Since Jean hadn’t gorged himself with the food and Neil moved the most swiftly through the trees, she wanted them to take the coil down through the jungle, unwinding the wire as they went. They were to lay it across the twelve o’clock beach and drop the metal spool, with whatever was left, deep into the water, making sure it would sink. Then run for the jungle. If they went now, right now, they should make it to safety.

“I’ll go with them,” Andrew said immediately. Neil agreed with a nod; he didn’t want to lose sight of Andrew.

“I need you here,” said Janie. “There’s no time to debate this. I’m sorry. If they are to get out of there alive, they need to move now.” She handed the coil to Jean.

Neil opened his mouth to protest, he wouldn’t leave without Andrew, but Andrew interrupted him.

“Okay,” Andrew told Janie, but looked at Neil. There was something in his gaze Neil didn’t like. “Drop the coil and come straight back up,” Andrew said.

“Not into the lightning zone,” Janie reminded Neil. “Head for the trees in the one-to-two-o’clock sector. If you find you’re running out of time, move over one more. Don’t even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage.”

“Okay,” Neil said. He watched Andrew’s face for anything else, but he returned Neil’s look blankly. “See you at midnight.” He wanted to touch Andrew, or kiss. But not in front of the others. An invisible audience was one thing, but he wasn’t in the mood for stupid comments, especially from Seth, so he simply waved at Andrew before turning to Jean. “Ready?”

“You guard, I’ll unwind. We can trade off later,” Jean said.

Without further discussion, they headed down the slope. They moved at a pretty good clip, one manning the coil, the other keeping watch. About halfway down, they heard the clicking beginning to rise, indicating it was after eleven.

“I’ll take the coil for a while,” Neil said. It was harder work laying out the wire than guarding, and Jean had had a long turn.

“Here,” Jean said, passing Neil the coil.

Both of their hands were still on the metal cylinder when there was a slight vibration. Suddenly the thin golden wire from above sprung down at them, bunching in tangled loops and curls around their wrists. Then the severed end snaked up to their feet.

It only took a second to register the rapid turn of events. Jean and Neil looked at each other, but neither of them had to say it. Someone not far above them had cut the wire. And they would be on them at any moment.

Neil’s hand freed itself from the wire and had just closed on the feathers of an arrow when the metal cylinder smashed into the side of his head. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back in the vines, a terrible pain in his left temple.

Something was wrong with his eyes. His vision blurred in and out of focus as he strained to make two moons floating up in the sky into one. It was hard to breath, and Neil realized Jean was sitting on his chest, pinning him at the shoulders with his knees.

There was stab in Neil’s left forearm. He tried to jerk away but he was still too incapacitated. Jean was digging the point of his knife into Neil’s flesh, twisting around. There was an excruciating ripping sensation and warmth ran down Neil’s wrist, filling his palm. Jean swiped down Neil’s arm and coated half of Neil’s face with the blood.

“Stay down!” he hissed. His weight left Neil’s body and he was alone.

It was like an automatic response, like muscle memory for Neil. The feeling of pain from a knife on his skin and commands spat in his ear. He obeyed whatever he was told, so he stayed down. He couldn’t even move if he wanted to, and all he could think about was how his father would come back for him.

Footsteps were coming. Two pairs. Heavy, not trying to conceal their whereabouts.

Titus’ voice. “He’s as good as dead! Come one, Epona!” Feet moving into the night.

Was he? Neil drifted in and out of consciousness looking for an answer. Was he as good as dead? He had been in worse pain before, but maybe that was a safe indication of death. If it stopped hurting it meant his body was giving up. Neil groaned softly. Rational thinking was a struggle.

All Neil knew was that Jean had attacked him. He had smashed that cylinder into Neil’s head. Had cut his arm, probably doing irreparable damage to veins and arteries, and then Titus and Epona had shown up before he had had time to finish Neil off.

The alliance was over. At least with Jean, he couldn’t tell where the others stood. Anyway, Neil was fair game now, and so was Andrew.

Neil’s eyes flew open. Andrew was waiting up by the tree, unsuspecting. Maybe one of the others had even killed him already. “No,” Neil whispered. As a reassurance to himself. The wire had been cut from a short distance away by the Careers. Andrew, Janie and the others couldn’t know what was going on down here. They could only be wondering what had happened, why the wire had gone slack. That, in itself, couldn’t be a signal to kill, couldn’t it? Surely this had been just Jean deciding the time had come to break with them. Maybe even on Riko’s order.

Neil didn’t know, he didn’t know. He only knew that he had to get back to Andrew.

It took every ounce of will Neil had to push up into a sitting position and drag himself up the side of a tree to his feet. It was good he had something to hold on to because the jungle was tilting back and forth. Without any warning he leaned forward and vomited up the seafood feast, heaving until there couldn’t possibly be a piece of fish left in his body. Trembling and slick with sweat, Neil assessed his physical condition.

As he lifted up his damaged arm, blood sprayed him in the face and the world made another alarming shift. Neil squeezed his eyes shut and clung to the tree until things steadied a little. Then he took a few careful steps to a neighboring tree, pulled off some moss, and without examining the wound further, tightly bandaged his arm. At least the bleeding was slowing down, and he didn’t have to see it anymore. Then Neil allowed his hand to tentatively touch his head wound. There was a huge lump but not too much blood.

Neil dried his hands on moss and got a shaky grip on his bow with his damaged left arm. He secured the notch of an arrow to the string and made his feet move up the slope.

Andrew. He had to find Andrew; he had to keep him alive. Neil’s heart lifted a bit when he realized Andrew must be still alive because no cannon had fired. It also meant Jean hadn’t gotten to anyone else yet. Neil didn’t want to think about it, but Jean’s betrayal meant he should also question everyone else’s motives. The way Matt had looked to Dan, Jean and Seth before he had agreed to help set Janie’s trap. Better not to trust anyone any longer.

Neil reached this conclusion only seconds before he heard someone running down the slope towards him. It certainly wasn’t Andrew’s steps, so Neil ducked behind a curtain of vines, concealing himself just in time. Matt flew past him, leaping through the undergrowth like a deer. “Neil! Jean!” he called. Neil stayed put until Matt went in the direction Jean and the Careers had taken.

He moved as quickly as he could without sending the world into a whirl. His head throbbed with the rapid beat of his heart, and he thought of Andrew and his fear of heights. Well, Neil knew what he was afraid of now.

The insects, possibly excited by the smell of blood, had increased their clicking until it was a continuous roar in Neil’s ears. Or maybe his ears were actually ringing from the hit. Until the insects shut up, it was impossible to tell. But when the insects went silent, the lightning would start. He had to move faster. He had to get to Andrew.

The boom of a cannon pulled Neil up short. Someone had died. He knew with everyone running around armed and scared right now, it could be anybody. But whoever it was, Neil believed the death would trigger a kind of free-for-all out here in the night. People would kill first and wonder about their motives later. He forced his legs into a run.

Something snagged his feet and Neil sprawled out on the ground. He felt it wrapping around him, entwining him in sharp fibers. A net. This must be one of Jean’s fancy nets, positioned to trap Neil, so he must be nearby, trident in hand.

Neil flailed around for a moment, only working the web more tightly around himself, and then he caught a glimpse of it in the moonlight. Confused, he lifted his arm and saw it was entangled in shimmering golden threads. It wasn’t Jean’s net at all, but Janie’s wire.

Carefully, Neil rose to his feet and found he was in a patch of wire that had caught on a trunk on its way back to the lightning tree. He slowly disengaged himself from it, stepped out of its reach and continued uphill.

At least Neil knew now that he was on the right path and hadn’t been so disoriented by the head injury as to lose his sense of direction.

The lightning tree swam into view, its trunk festooned with gold. Neil slowed down, tried to move with some stealth, but he was really just lucky to be upright. He looked for a sign of the others. No one. No one was there.

“Andrew?” Neil called softly. “Andrew?”

A soft moan answered him, and he whipped around to find two figures lying higher up on the ground. Niobe and Janie.

Neil hurried and kneeled beside the two women. The moan must have been involuntarily from Janie. They were both not conscious, although Neil couldn’t see any wound except a gash below the crook of both of their elbows.

Neil grabbed a nearby handful of moss and wrapped it with shaking fingers while he tried to rouse them. “What’s going on? Who cut you? Janie!” Neil shook her the way no one should ever shake an injured person, but he didn’t know what else to do. Where was Andrew?

Niobe moaned and briefly raised a hand to ward him off. That was when Neil noticed she was holding a knife, one of Andrew’s, which was wrapped loosely in wire. Perplexed, Neil stood and lifted the wire, confirming it was attached back at the tree.

Neil squinted hard up the hill and realized they were only a few paces from the force field. There was the telltale square, high up and to his right, just as it had been this morning. What had Janie and Niobe done? And what was the deal with the wire? Was this a back-up plan? If electrifying the water failed, did they mean to send the lightning bolt’s energy into the force field? What would that do, anyway? Nothing? Fry them all? The force field must be mostly energy, too, Neil guessed. The one in the Training Center had been invisible. This one seemed to somehow mirror the jungle. But he had seen it falter when his arrow had hit. The real world lay right behind it.

Neil’s ears were not ringing. It had been the insects after all. He knew that now because they were dying out quickly, and he heard nothing but the jungle sounds.

Janie and Niobe were useless. Neil couldn’t rouse them. He couldn’t save them. He didn’t know what they were trying to do with the knife and the wire, and they were incapable of explaining now. The moss bandage on Neil’s arm was soaked and he had often enough passed out from blood loss to fool himself. He was so light-headed, he had maybe another few minutes before blacking out. He had to get away from the tree and—

“Neil!” He heard Andrew’s voice, though he was a far distance away. What was he doing? He must have figured out that everyone was hunting them by now.

“Neil!”

Neil couldn’t protect him. He couldn’t move fast or far and his shooting abilities were questionable at best. Neil did the one thing he could to draw attackers away from Andrew and over to him.

“Andrew!” Neil called out. “Andrew! I’m here!” He shouted Andrew’s name a few more times, loud and clear.

It was working. He could hear them coming. Three of them. Crashing through the jungle. Neil’s knees started to give out and he sunk down next to Niobe, resting his weight on his heels. Bow and arrow lifted into position. If Neil took them out, would Andrew survive the rest?

Matt, Dan and Epona reached the lightning tree. They couldn’t see Neil, sitting above them on the slope, his skin camouflaged in ointment. He homed in on Epona’s neck. With any luck, when Neil killed her, Dan and Matt would duck behind the tree for cover just as the lightning bolt struck. And it would be any second. There was only a faint insect click here and there. He could kill them now. He could kill all three of them.

Janie and Niobe still breathed faintly beside him. He and both of them would soon die. Dan, Matt and Epona would die. Andrew was alive. Titus, Jean, Seth. One of them was already dead. That would leave Andrew with two other tributes. The very best Neil could do. Two enemies.

Enemies. Enemy. The word was tugging at a recent memory. The look on Wymack’s face.  _ “Neil, when you’re in the arena…” _ The scowl. The misgiving.  _ “You just remember who the enemy is,” _ Wymack had said.  _ “That’s all.” _

Wymack’s last words of advice to him. Why would he need reminding? Neil had always known who the enemy was. Who had threatened him, who had hurt him, who had tortured him in the arena. At home. On the run. As a victor. Who had done the same to Andrew.

Neil let the bow sink. Yes, he knew who the enemy was. And it wasn’t Epona. Certainly not Dan and Matt.

Neil’s shaking hands slid the wire from the hilt of the knife Niobe had held, wound it around the arrow just above the feathers and secured it with a knot picked up in training.

He rose, turning to the force field, fully revealing himself but no longer caring. Only caring about where he should direct his tip, where Janie and Niobe would have driven the knife if they’d been able to choose. The bow tilted up at the wavering square, the flaw, the chink in the armor. Neil let the arrow fly, saw it hit its mark and vanish, pulling the thread of gold behind it.

His hair stood on end and the lightning struck the tree. A flash of white ran up the wire, and for just a moment, the dome burst into a dazzling blue light.

Neil was thrown backwards to the ground, body useless, paralyzed, eyes frozen wide, as feathery bits of matter rained down on him. He couldn’t reach Andrew. He couldn’t even reach for the pearl in the quiver on his back. He ached for something to hold onto, he wanted to see the most important person in his life before he finally died. Not through his father’s hand, not through Riko’s. Andrew would hate him for it. He already did anyway.

Right before the explosions began, Neil found a star.

 

Everything seemed to erupt at once. The earth exploded into showers of dirt and plant matter. Trees burst into flames.

Would there be a victor of the Thirty-fifth Hunger Games? Would Riko or his father let anyone survive? Maybe not. Wasn’t that the theme of this Anniversary Year? Even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol.

Perhaps they had never intended to have a victor in these Games at all. Neil’s heart clenched when he thought about Andrew who he hadn’t been able to save. He had stolen Andrew’s last chance at life by destroying the force field. Maybe, if they all had played by the rules, they might have let Andrew live.

A hovercraft materialized above Neil without warning. The claw dropped from the underside until it was directly overhead. The metal talons slid under Neil. He wanted to run, smash his way out of it but he was frozen, helpless to do anything but fervently hope he would die before he reached his father waiting for him. Of course, his father. He would use this moment to get his hands on him. What a great chance Neil had given him here. Maybe he would even share with Riko.

Neil’s worst fears were confirmed when the face that greeted him inside the hovercraft belonged to a pale, sick looking Kevin Day. Riko wouldn’t be far then. What a mess he had made out of Riko’s beautiful Games. Riko would suffer for his failure, probably lose his life, but not before he saw Neil punished. And Kevin would await the same fate.

Kevin’s hand reached for Neil, Neil thought to strike him, but he did something worse. With his thumb and forefinger, he slid Neil’s eyelids shut, sentencing him to the vulnerability of darkness. They could do anything to him now, and he wouldn’t even see it coming.

His thoughts grew foggy and his heart was pounding so hard the blood from beneath the soaked moss bandage began to stream. Hopefully he would bleed to death before they could revive him after all. In his mind, he whispered a thank-you to Jean for the excellent wound he had inflicted as he blacked out.

When Neil swam back into semi-consciousness, he could feel he was lying on a padded table. His hands were tied down to it, tubes in his arm. Of course they were trying to keep him alive. The list of people who wanted to watch him die slowly and painfully was long.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head slightly. He was in a large room with low ceilings and a silvery light. There were two rows of beds facing each other. He could hear the breathing of what Neil assumed were his fellow victors. Directly across from him he saw Janie with about ten different machines hooked up to her. Neil felt he was on the verge of blacking out again and drifted back into darkness with the wish to just die.

When Neil truly woke up, the restraints were gone. He raised his hand and found he had fingers that could move at his command again. He pushed himself to a sitting position and held onto the padded table until the room settled into focus. His left arm was bandaged but the tubes dangled off stands by the bed.

Neil was alone except for Janie and Niobe, who were both being sustained by an army of machines. Where were the others? Andrew, Matt, Dan, Epona and… two more, right? Seth, Jean or Titus. Neil was sure they’d want to make an example of them all. But where had they taken them? Moved from hospital to prison?

“Andrew,” Neil whispered. He had to find him. If Riko or his father got their hands on him… Since Neil had failed to save his life in the arena, he had to find a way to do it here.

Neil slid his legs off the table and looked around for a weapon. There were a few syringes sealed in sterile plastic on a table near Janie’s bed. It was better than nothing. And to kill someone all he would need was air and a clear shot at a vein. He would rather see Andrew die quickly then meet the Butcher. He would certainly use him to get to Neil. And Riko had threatened to crush Andrew in front of his eyes.

Neil was naked except for a thin nightgown which made his stomach drop in discomfort. Even though he was back in his father’s claws, the thought of strangers seeing his scars made him ball his hands into fists.

He slipped the syringe under the bandage that covered the wound on his arm. No one guarded the door. No doubt was he miles beneath the Training Center or in some Capitol stronghold, and the possibility of his escape non-existent. He would find a way. For Andrew. And if not, they would die on their own terms.

Neil crept down a narrow hallway to a metal door that stood slightly ajar. Someone was behind it. Neil took out the syringe and gripped it in his hand. Flattening himself against the wall, he listened to the voices inside.

“Communications are down in Seven, Ten and Twelve. But Eleven has control of transportation now, so there’s at least a chance of them getting some food out.” Kevin, Neil thought.

A hoarse voice asked a question.

“No, there is no way of getting any information about Seven. Much less about individual people. We can only wait, Dan.”

Dan. Neil’s mind struggled to make sense of the conversation, of the fact that it was taking place between Kevin and Dan.

Another voice croaked out something.

“No can do. But as long as  _ he’s _ alive, they’ll keep  _ him _ alive for bait,” said Wymack.

Said Wymack! Neil banged through the door and stumbled into the room. Wymack, Kevin and a very beat-up Matt and Dan sat around a table laid with a meal no one was eating. Daylight streamed in the curved windows, and in the distance Neil saw the top of a forest of trees. They were flying.

As Neil careened forward, Wymack stepped up and caught Neil’s wrists, steadying him. He looked at Neil’s hand. “So it’s you and a syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans.”

Neil stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“Drop it.”

Neil felt the pressure increase on his right wrist until his hand was forced to open and he released the syringe. Wymack settled him in a chair next to Matt. Matt put a bowl of broth in front of Neil and slipped a spoon into Neil’s hand.

“Eat,” he said gently.

Wymack and Kevin sat directly in front of Neil. “Neil, I’m going to explain what happened. Don’t ask any questions until I’m through. Do you understand?”

The authority in Wymack’s voice made Neil stiffen, but he nodded numbly.

There had been a plan to break the victors out of the arena from the moment the Anniversary Year had been announced. Half of the victor tributes had had varying degrees of knowledge about it. Kevin had been, for several years, part of an undercover group aiming to overthrow the Capitol. He had made sure the wire had been among the weapons. Janie had been in charge of blowing a hole in the force field.

The bread they had received in the arena had been code for the time of the rescue. The district where the bread originated had indicated the day. Three. The number of rolls the hour. Twenty-four. The hovercraft belonged to District 13. District 13! Kevin was in contact with people who had built another District 13 under the destroyed aerial on the surface. A whole community, hidden from the Capitol, waiting for a chance to attack.

They were currently on a very roundabout journey to District 13. Meanwhile, most of the districts in Panem were in full-scale rebellion.

Wymack stopped to see if Neil was following. Or maybe he was done for the moment.

It was an awful lot to take in, this elaborate plan in which Neil had been a piece, just as he had been meant to be a piece in the Hunger Games, a piece in his father’s empire. Used without consent, without knowledge. At least in the Games he had known he had been a player. And Andrew, they had done this to Andrew, too. Like a puppet. Neil felt sick.

“You didn’t tell me.” His voice was as ragged as Dan’s and Matt’s.

“Neither you nor Andrew were told. We couldn’t risk it,” said Kevin.

“Why?” Neil asked.

“Because once the force field blew, you’d be the first ones they’d try to capture, and the less you knew, the better,” Kevin explained.

“The first ones? Why?” Neil tried to hang on to the train of thought.

“For the same reason the rest of us agreed to die to keep you alive,” Dan said.

“No, Jean tried to kill me.” Neil could still feel the tip of the knife in his arm.

“Jean knocked you out to cut the tracker from your arm and lead Titus and Epona away from you,” said Wymack.

“What?” Neil’s head ached so and he wanted them to stop talking in circles. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“We had to save you because you are the symbol of this rebellion, Neil,” said Kevin impatiently. “While you live, the revolution lives.”

The interview, the pin, Robin’s story, the berries, the flag, his flaming clothes. Neil was the one that had survived despite the Capitol’s plans. The symbol of the rebellion. And how had he survived?

“Andrew,” Neil whispered, his heart sinking.

“The others kept Andrew alive because if he died, we knew there’d be no keeping you in an alliance,” said Kevin. “And we couldn’t risk leaving you unprotected.”

His words were matter-of-fact, his expression unchanged, but he couldn’t hide the tinge of gray that colored his face.

“Where is Andrew?” Neil asked hollowly.

“He was picked up by the Capitol along with Jean, Seth and Epona,” said Kevin. And finally he had the decency to drop his gaze.

Technically, Neil was unarmed. But no one should ever underestimate the harm that fingernails could do, especially if the target was unprepared. Neil lunged across the table and raked his down Kevin’s face, not caring how he hurt him only that he did. Then they were both screaming terrible, terrible things at each other, and Matt was trying to drag Neil out, and Neil knew it was all Kevin could do not to rip him apart, but he was the symbol of the rebellion. He was keeping the revolution alive and it was too hard keeping him alive as it was.

Dan and Wymack helped Matt, and Neil was back on his table. His body restrained, his wrists tied down, so Neil slammed his head in fury again and again against the table. A needle poked his arm, and his head hurt so badly Neil stopped fighting and simply called for Andrew over and over again until his voice gave out in a horrible, dying-animal way.

The drug caused sedation, not sleep, so he was trapped in fuzzy, dully arching misery for what seemed like always. They reinserted their tubes and talked to him in soothing voices that never reached him. All he could think of was Andrew, lying on a similar table somewhere, while they were trying to break him for information he didn’t even have. And Riko who would do it just for fun. Who wouldn’t care about any information. His only purpose torturing Andrew.  Neil thought he was going mad at the thought of it.

“Neil. Neil, I’m sorry.” Matt’s voice came from the bed next to Neil and slipped into his consciousness. “I wanted to go back for him and Seth and Jean, but I couldn’t move.”

Neil didn’t answer. Matt Boyd’s good intentions meant less than nothing.

“It’s better for him than Jean and Seth,” Neil heard Kevin say quietly. “They’ll figure out he doesn’t know anything pretty fast. And they won’t kill him if they think they can use him against you.”

Neil turned his head to see Kevin sitting on a chair beside him. His brown skin looked even more ashen. He had dark circles under his eyes.

“Like bait?” he said, staring into Kevin’s eyes. “Like they will use Jean’s sister as bait to make him talk? You know what Riko will do to them.”

Kevin’s face fell and he pressed his broken hand to his chest as if to keep it safe. For a moment they only looked at each other, then Kevin said, “I wish Jean was dead. I wish they were all dead. It would be the best.”

There was really no good response to that. Neil looked back up to the ceiling. He could hardly dispute Kevin’s wish since he had been walking around with a syringe to kill Andrew in the worst case. Neil didn’t want him dead, though. What he wanted was to have him back. But he would never get him back now. Even if the rebel forces could somehow overthrow the Capitol, it was certain Riko’s last act would be to cut Andrew’s throat.

Neil had had no idea something could hurt so much without leaving a mark. Would Andrew keep fighting? He was so strong, he had survived his whole life until now. Did he even care to stay alive? He hadn’t planned to, anyway. He had already signed off on life. Maybe, if he knew Neil had been rescued, he would be even glad. He had fulfilled his mission to keep him alive.

And for the first time in his life, Neil was close to giving up. He stopped talking. Only ate enough to sooth his growling stomach. He had run his whole life and now there was nothing left to run to. His mother had warned him about this, it was dangerous to let people in. And Neil had let Andrew in. It was like losing his mother all over again. He was alone.

A lot of people came by to talk to him, but to Neil they all sounded like the clicking of the insects in the jungle. Meaningless and distant. Dangerous, but only if approached.

Until one time, he opened his eyes and found someone he couldn’t block out looking down at him. His dark eyes that usually had some mirth in them were tired and dull.

“Neil,” Nicky said, his voice careful like he was talking to a wild animal. Neil noticed Nicky’s arm was in a sling, and there were bandages peeking out from under his shirt. What had happened to him? How was he even here? Something bad had happened in District 12.

“Aaron?” Neil asked. Not because Aaron’s wellbeing was his first concern, but it was Andrew’s.

“He’s alive. So are Betsy and Abby. Coach Hernandez got them out in time,” Nicky said.

“They’re not in District 12?”

Nicky swallowed. “After the Games, they sent in planes. Dropped firebombs.”

“Neil,” Nicky started again, but Neil was already trying to block him out. They wouldn’t take the only other place that came close to something he could call home. Not after Andrew. This couldn’t be true.

Despite his efforts, Nicky’s quiet voice cut through all of his walls like hot iron.

“Neil, there is no District 12.”

What Neil saw was the dining room in Wymack’s house turned into ashes. The kitchen he had sat so often with Rena and Coach Hernandez. The bakery. Renee’s garden. Andrew’s home, the one he had built on his own. The sofa he had spent many nights with Andrew on, the kitchen he had eaten with Andrew and the cats. The cats.

For a short time Neil had had everything, much more than he had ever possessed in his life before. The soft fur of a cat tickling him awake, the feeling of being surrounded by people he could trust. A family. Andrew’s lips, fingers in his hair, the press of a hand over his heart.

There was no surviving this. Not for Neil. The fury he felt wasn’t the hot, seething feeling that burst out of him from time to time, making him say awful things. It was cold and all consuming. It froze his heart and made him quiet. 

Maybe it was time to leave Neil behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate cliffhangers, but the chapter had to end eventually.  
> I am going to take a little break to read Mockingjay and work out a plan for part 3. And thank you again for staying with me♥


	20. The Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to part 3 of the fic! The last part. I still can't believe I made it this far??  
> You guys leaving comments and kudos definitely motivated me! Thank you!!!♥

Neil stared down at his shoes, watching as a fine layer of ash settled on the worn leather. This was where he had lived for a whole year. The bed with the thin mattress, the wooden kitchen table with only two chairs. Nothing left but a sea of gray. Only the bricks of the chimney, which had collapsed in a charred heap, provided a point of reference for the rest of the shack.

Almost nothing remained of District 12. Three weeks ago, the Capitol’s firebombs had obliterated the poor coal miners’ houses in the Seam, the shops in the town, even the Justice Building. The only area that had escaped incineration was the Victor’s Village. Neil didn’t know why. Perhaps so anyone forced to come here on Capitol business would have somewhere reasonable to stay. Reporters. A committee assessing the coal mines. A squad of Peacekeepers checking for returning refugees.

But no one was returning except Neil. And that was only for a brief visit. The authorities in District 13 had been against his coming back. They viewed it as a costly and pointless venture, given that at least a dozen invisible hovercrafts were circling overhead for his protection and there was no intelligence to be gained. Neil had had to see it, though.

Eventually, Kevin Day, the Gamemaker who had organized the rebels in the Capitol, had thrown up his hands. “Let him go. Better to waste a day than another three weeks. Maybe a little tour of 12 is just what he needs to convince him we’re on the same side.”

The same side. A pain stabbed Neil’s left temple and he pressed his hand against it. Right on the spot where Jean Moreau had hit him with the coil of wire. The memories swirled as he tried to sort out what was true and what was false. What series of events had led him to be standing in the ruins of a whole district?

It was hard to concentrate because the effects of the concussion Jean had given him hadn’t completely subsided, and his thoughts still had a tendency to jumble together. More often than not Neil felt  _ Neil _ slipping from him, making way for Nathaniel. Maybe to protect him. What was left of him, anyway. Also, the drugs they had used to control his pain and mood sometimes made him see things. He guessed. Neil was still not entirely convinced that he had been hallucinating the night the floor of his hospital room had been transformed into a carpet of writhing snakes.

Betsy had suggested a technique where Neil was supposed to start with the simplest things he knew to be true and worked towards the more complicated. It wasn’t a bad idea if only the simplest things about him weren’t lies, lies, lies.

His name wasn’t Neil Josten. His home wasn’t District 12. He wasn’t even sure if he was truly nineteen years old.

So he tried other things. He had been in the Hunger Games. He had escaped. The Capitol hated him. Andrew had been taken prisoner. He was thought to be dead. Most likely he was dead. It was probably the best if he was dead…

“Neil. Should I come down?” Matt’s voice reached Neil through the headset the rebels had insisted he wore. Matt was up in a hovercraft, watching him carefully, ready to swoop in if anything should go amiss.

Neil realized he was crouched down now, elbows on his thighs, his head braced between his hands. He must look on the verge of some kind of breakdown. This wouldn’t do. Not when they were finally weaning him off the medication. Neil remembered the first week in District 13 only through a haze of blurred faces and droning voices. Apparently they had had to sedate him because he had been a danger to others and himself. Whatever that meant.

Neil straightened up and waved Matt’s offer away. “No. I’m fine.”

To reinforce this, he began to move away from his old shack and in towards the town. Matt had asked to be dropped off in 12 with Neil, but he hadn’t forced the issue when Neil had refused his company.

The summer had been scorching hot and dry as bone. There had been next to no rain to disturb the piles of ash left by the attack. They shifted here and there, in reaction to Neil’s footsteps. No breeze to scatter them. Neil kept his eyes on what he remembered as the road, because when he first had landed, he hadn’t been careful and had walked right into a rock. Only it hadn’t been a rock – it had been someone’s skull. It had rolled over and over and landed face up, and for a long time Neil hadn’t been able to stop looking at it. Remembering his mother, bones stuffed in a backpack and buried in damp sand.

He stuck to the road out of habit, but it was a bad choice, because it was full of remains of those who had tried to flee. Some were incinerated entirely, black bones like his mother. But others, probably overcome with smoke, had escaped the worst of the flames and now lay reeking in various states of decomposition, carrion for scavengers, blanketed by flies. His father had done this. Neil didn’t know these people, couldn’t bring himself to feel anything, even though he had basically killed them.

Because it had been his arrow that had sent the whole country of Panem into chaos. And worse, had put Andrew right in the Capitol’s hands. Andrew and Jean. Even Seth. And he had stolen Wymack’s and Renee’s home. Aaron’s and Nicky’s. Betsy’s and Abby’s.

The fires at the coal mines were still burning, the black smoke visible in the distance. There was no one left to care, though. More than ninety percent of the district’s population was dead. The remaining eight hundred or so were refugees in District 13.

Neil knew he should be grateful for being welcomed in 13. For the others as well. But he could never get around the fact that District 13 was instrumental in Andrew’s capture. Without them, Neil would not have been part of a larger plot to overthrow the Capitol, and no one would have prioritized him over Andrew.

The credit for the survivors’ escape had landed squarely on Coach Hernandez’ and Abby’s shoulders. As soon as the Anniversary Games had been over – as soon as Neil had been lifted from the arena – the electricity in District 12 had been cut, the televisions had gone black and everything had become so silent, people had been able to hear one another’s heartbeat. No had done anything to protest or celebrate what had happened in the arena. Yet within fifteen minutes, the sky had been filled with hoverplanes and the bombs had been raining down.

Coach Hernandez had herded those he could to the fence while Abby had done the same with from the other side of the district. They had formed a team to pull the fence down – with the electricity off it had been just a harmless chain-link barrier – and had led the people into the woods.

After two days of surviving out there, a hovercraft had unexpectedly arrived to evacuate them to District 13, where more than enough clean, white living compartments, plenty of clothing and three meals a day had awaited them. The compartments had the disadvantage of being underground, the clothing was identical and the food was relatively tasteless, but for the starving people of 12, it was a lot more than they could have ever hoped for. They were being cared for. They were alive and had been eagerly welcomed.

This enthusiasm had been interpreted as kindness. But Erik, Nicky’s boyfriend, who had made it to 13 right after the uprising in District 4 on foot a few months ago, had leaked the real motive to Nicky. And Nicky to Neil. “They need you. Me. They need us all. A while back, there was some sort of pox epidemic that killed a bunch of them and left a lot more infertile. New breeding stock. That’s how they see us.”

Neil didn’t care much. He didn’t care about a lot of things these days. He knew everyone was slowly losing patience with him, but what could they do? When he talked to anyone outside of his circle he felt himself falling back into old patterns, things Nathaniel would say and do. He couldn’t help it, especially if anyone mentioned Andrew.

The surface beneath Neil’s feet hardened, and under the carpet of ash, he felt the paving stones of the square. Around the perimeter was a shallow border of refuse where the shops had stood. A heap of blackened rubble had replaced the Justice Building. Neil walked to the approximate site of the bakery Nicky and Andrew had worked in. Nothing much left but the melted lump of the oven. The baker had fortunately made it to District 13.

Neil backed away from the bakery and bumped into something, lost his balance and found himself sitting on a hunk of sun-heated metal. For a moment he puzzled over what it might have been, then remembered Jackson Plank’s recent renovations of the square. Stocks, whipping posts, and this, the remains of the gallows.

The sheer sight of it brought on the flood of images that tormented Neil, awake or asleep. Andrew being tortured – drowned, burned, lacerated, shocked, maimed, beaten. Riko could be quite imaginative. A pain soared through Neil’s chest when he thought of Drake. He couldn’t breathe. Neil squeezed his eyes shut and tried to reach for Andrew across the hundreds and hundreds of kilometers, to send his thoughts into his mind, to let him know he was not alone. But he was. And Neil couldn’t help him.

He had tried. Had blackmailed the people who wanted him alive as the rebellion’s symbol. Had stopped eating until they had forced it down in him. Had threatened to kill himself if they wouldn’t rescue Andrew. It had only ended with him tied to his hospital bed. In the last three weeks he had only seen Matt, Wymack, Kevin, Abby, Betsy and Nicky. No one else was allowed to go near him. Apart of the District 13 authorities, of course. Jeremy Knox, who had, contrary to Riko’s boasting, actually escaped to 13. He and Kevin had planned that escape and had exchanged information ever since.

Neil still couldn’t believe Kevin had done this. When he looked at him now, he saw nothing but a nervous wreck.

Trying to shake the pictures of Andrew off, Neil set out into a run. Away from the square and to the one place the fire had not destroyed. Ashes billowed up around him, and Neil pulled the collar of his shirt up over his mouth.

The grass had been scorched and the gray snow fell here as well, but the twelve fine houses of the Victor’s Village were unscathed. Neil bolted into the house he had lived in for the past year, slammed the door closed and leaned back against it.

The place seemed untouched. After sharing the space with Andrew, it felt eerily quiet. Why had he come back to 12? How could this visit help him answer the question he couldn’t escape from?

What was he going to do? He really did not know.

People kept talking to him. Talking, talking, talking. Kevin. Matt. Jeremy. Wymack. A mishmash of district leaders. Military officials. Even Charles Whittier, the president of 13. He looked at Neil like he would explode in the next minute, though. Neil couldn’t really remember his arrival in District 13, but apparently he had left the impression of a rabid dog, thrashing around and almost clawing the skin off Wymack’s arm, telling him to go back for Andrew.

What all of them, except for Wymack and Matt maybe, wanted was for Neil to truly take on the role designed for him. The symbol of the revolution. It wasn’t enough, what he had done in the past, defying the Capitol in the Games, providing a rallying point. He had to become the actual leader now, the face, the voice, the embodiment of the revolution. The person who the districts – most of which were now openly at war with the Capitol – could count on to blaze the path to victory. Him. The son of the right hand man of Kengo Moriyama. Son of the man who was currently slaughtering the rebels in the districts. How did no one recognize him? How did Kevin not recognize him?

Neil wouldn’t have to do it alone. They had a whole team of people to make him over, dress him, write his speeches, orchestrate his appearance – as if  _ that _ didn’t sound familiar – and all Neil had to do was play his part. As if he cared about anything besides Andrew now.

Sometimes he listened to them and sometimes he just stared at the naked walls, getting lost in memories of sun warming his face and fingers in his hair. Eventually, he left the room because his head started to ache or it was time to eat or if he didn’t get above ground he might have started screaming. He never bothered to say anything. He simply got up and walked out.

Yesterday afternoon, as the door had been closing behind Neil, Neil had heard Whittier say, “I told you we should have rescued the other one, too.” Meaning Andrew. Neil couldn’t agree more. He might have helped them then.

So now they were stuck with Neil, who wouldn’t cooperate. Janie, who was rarely seen as Matt had told him because she was pulled into weapons development the minute she could sit upright. Literally, they had wheeled her hospital bed into some top secret area, and now she only occasionally showed up for meals. She was very smart and apparently willing to help the cause, but not really firebrand material.

Then there were Matt, Niobe and Dan. Niobe trained the residents of 13, especially the District 12 refugees to make them into soldiers. Dan helped her where she could, but also had to undergo her own training. Matt was often present at the meetings where they discussed Neil’s role and tried to defend Neil, even though Neil didn’t really care. He had forgiven them all for their role in the conspiracy that had landed Neil here, though. They had only meant well. For Panem. Dan and Matt probably even for him.

Neil moved through the downstairs on hunter’s feet, reluctant to make any sound. He stopped at the sofa that was facing the fireplace. Someone had carelessly thrown the hideous orange-green sweater over its backrest. Probably Andrew when he had gone out for a late night cigarette. Neil picked it up, along with a pack of cigarettes.

Was there any point in doing anything at all? He could just run away. Disappear in the woods and never look back. But that was impossible. Not if there was the slightest chance of Andrew being alive.

Neil whirled around when he heard something rustling behind him. In the kitchen doorway, heads tilted, one orange, one black, stood the two other inhabitants of Neil’s house. Neil felt a lump in his throat. Thousands of people were dead, but they had survived and even looked well fed. They could get in and out of the house through a window Neil always left ajar in the pantry. The possibilities to eat were endless out there.

Neil squatted down and extended a hand. When both cats came forward and started to rub their heads against his palm, he had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second. “It’s only the three of us now.”

When Neil went upstairs to his bedroom the cats followed him. They felt abandoned by him, he realized with a pang of guilt. Inside the wardrobe hung his game bag, the one he used for hunting. It would be big enough to put both cats inside. He took it out just when Matt told him they had to go back now.

Neil stuffed the sweater and cigarettes inside the bag, and the cats didn’t seem to mind it that much, too. The orange one meowed once or twice but then curled up on the sweater. Neil turned around to leave when he saw it. On his pillow. The shiny blade reflecting the sun. It must be brand-new.

A cleaver. So sharp it could cut off a man’s leg if used with enough strength. Neil’s chest constricted and he couldn’t breathe anymore. He backed away, stumbled against the doorframe and cleared out. His father knew. He knew, he knew, he knew. And the only one available for his wrath was Andrew.

On the lawn, Neil frantically signaled to the hovercraft while the cats got restless in the bag. Neil stroked their fur with shaking hands which made them even more anxious. A hovercraft materialized and a ladder dropped down. Neil stepped on and the current froze him until he was lifted on board.

Matt helped him from the ladder. “You alright?”

“Yes,” Neil said, wiping the sweat off his face with his sleeve. He couldn’t stop thinking about Andrew. The cleaver.

Of course, he couldn’t tell anyone about it. Not Matt, certainly not Kevin who looked at him quizzically from where he was sitting.

The cleaver was a personal message. It spoke of unfinished business. It whispered,  _ I can find you. I can reach you. Perhaps I am watching you now. _

As they traveled over District 12, Neil watched anxiously for signs of an attack, certain that Capitol hoverplanes would appear to blow them out of the sky. Or maybe not, since his father most likely wanted him alive.

After several minutes, when Neil heard an exchange between Kevin and the pilot confirming that the airspace was clear, Neil started to relax a little.

Matt nodded at the movement coming from Neil’s game bag. “Fresh breakfast for tomorrow?”

Neil carefully placed the bag on a seat and opened it a little wider so the cats could stick their heads out. “My other roommates.”

Matt regarded them for a moment before he asked hesitantly, “Pretty bad down there?”

“Couldn’t be much worse,” Neil answered. It could for Neil, though. The only things that had made District 12 his home were the people he had met there. All of them safe and sound. Except for one.

They sat in silence for the rest of the trip to 13, which only took about forty-five minutes. A mere week’s journey on foot. Not for the first time Neil wondered why his mother had never even attempted to go to District 13. The rumors about it surviving the war surely hadn’t passed her.

From the air, 13 looked about as cheerful as 12. The rubble wasn’t smoking anymore, but there was next to no life above ground. In the thirty-five years, after 13’s supposed obliteration, almost all new construction had been beneath the earth’s surface. There had been already a substantial underground facility here, developed over centuries to be either a clandestine refuge for government leaders in time of war or a last resort for humanity if life above became unlivable.

Most important for the people of 13, it had been the center of the Capitol’s nuclear weapons development program. During the Dark Days, the rebels in 13 had wrested control from the government forces, had trained their nuclear missiles on the Capitol and had struck a bargain: they would play dead in exchange for being left alone. The Capitol had another nuclear arsenal out west, but it couldn’t attack 13 without certain retaliation.

Now the citizens lived almost exclusively underground. They were allowed to go outside for exercise and sunlight but only at specific times in the schedule. And no one ever messed with the schedule. Every morning, the people were supposed to stick their right arm in a contraption in the wall. It tattooed the inside of the forearm with an individual schedule for the day in a sickly purple ink.  _ 7:00 – Breakfast. 7:30 – Kitchen Duties. 8:00 – Education Center, Room 17. _ And so on. The ink was indelible until  _ 22:00 – Bathing _ . That was when whatever kept it water resistant broke down and the whole schedule rinsed away. The lights-out at 22:30 signaled that everyone not on the night shift should be in bed.

Up until today, Neil had been spared from being imprinted. But after his trip he would move into Compartment 307 with Nicky and Aaron. And then he would be allowed to meet the others. Allison, Renee, Katelyn and Dan. And Aaron. He had slept in the hospital the last few weeks, technically not allowed to leave it, but the District 13 rules meant less than nothing to Neil, so he often wandered the halls, hiding from another onslaught of people wanting something from him.

He didn’t know how long he would be able to get away with his complete disregard for the clockwork precision of attendance required by his hosts. Right now, they left Neil alone because he was classified as mentally disoriented – it said so right on his plastic medical bracelet – and everyone had to tolerate his ramblings. But that couldn’t last forever. Neither could their patience with the symbol of the revolution issue.

 

From the landing pad, Matt and Neil walked down a series of stairways to Compartment 307. They could take the lift, only it reminded them both too much of the one that had lifted them into the arena. Neil had a hard time adjusting to being underground so much, but after the surreal encounter with the cleaver, for the first time the descent made him feel safer.

Neil hesitated at the door marked 307, anticipating the questions from Nicky and Aaron. Well, more from Nicky. Aaron had never talked much, much less with Neil. And there was Andrew’s shadow looming over both of them now. Nicky had assured Neil it hadn’t been his fault, and Neil believed that Nicky actually thought so. No one had accused him of anything, actually. No one even seemed to care that Andrew wasn’t with them.

Then Neil took a deep breath and opened the door. Nicky and Aaron were home for  _ 18:00 – Reflection _ , a half hour of downtime before dinner. Nicky smiled happily at Neil when he entered, Aaron didn’t even glance up from his book. Before Nicky could ask anything, Neil emptied his game bag and it became  _ 18:00 – Cat Adoration _ .

Nicky jumped from his bed and cradled both cats in his arms. Pressing kisses on the black cats head. “King! Sir! Oh you beautiful creatures, you live!”

Neil blinked. “What? What did you call them?”

Nicky looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, cats walking all over him. “Oh, right. I forgot. Katelyn and I thought it’s stupid you didn’t give them any names. Like come on! They are family, treat them like it! So we voted and King Fluffkins,” he held up the black cat, “and Sir Fat Cat McCatterson,” he held up the orange cat, “are no longer nameless.”

An almost smile tugged at Neil’s lips and Nicky who noticed grinned brightly at him. He tried so hard for Neil, not once had he mentioned Andrew after one of Neil’s outbursts of rage that had gotten him his mentally disoriented bracelet. Neil knew he felt guilty, because he had Erik back and was happy while Andrew was kept in the Capitol, probably dead.

Neil pulled the sweater from his bag and after a moment of consideration stuffed it under his pillow. When he turned around he noticed Aaron watching him. He didn’t say anything, but Neil could see the accusation in his eyes. Ignoring it, Neil took out the cigarettes and placed them on their government-issued chest of drawers.

Matt and Dan came by to pick them up for dinner. Dan gave him a quick once over, wanting to hug him for sure. She restrained herself and instead cooed over the cats with Matt for a moment. Aaron simply left them behind, no doubt on his way to Katelyn.

They were heading down to the dining hall when Matt’s communicoff began to beep. It looked like an oversized watch, but it received print messages. Being granted a communicoff was a special privilege that was reserved for those important to the cause, a status Matt had achieved by volunteering to be Neil’s babysitter in the Games and now here.

“They need Neil and me in Command,” he said. Dan and Nicky sighed simultaneously, but waved them off, Dan with a quick kiss and a slap on Matt’s ass which Nicky commented with, “I’d like to do that, too.”

Trailing a few steps behind Matt, Neil tried to collect himself before he was thrown into what was sure to be another relentless leadership of the rebellion session. He lingered in the doorway of Command, the high-tech/war council room complete with computerized talking walls, electronic maps showing the troop movements in various districts and a giant rectangular table with control panels. No one noticed him, though, because they were all gathered at a television screen at the far end of the room that aired Capitol broadcast around the clock.

Neil was thinking he might be able to slip away when Kevin, who had been blocking the television, caught sight of him and waved urgently for him to join them. Neil reluctantly moved forward, not seeing how it could be of interest to him. It was always the same. War footage. Propaganda. Replaying the bombings of District 12. An ominous message from Ichirou Moriyama, who had undertaken more and more of his father’s duties in the last few weeks.

So it was almost entertaining to see Kathy Ferdinand and her freakish smile preparing to give an interview. Until the camera pulled back and Neil saw who her guests were.

Three white chairs. On the left was Riko, false smile, black suit. His hand rested on Jean’s arm, in a calming fashion at first glance, but it was obviously threatening. Jean looked awful. Next to Neil, Kevin let out a noise as if punched in the chest. No makeup or stylist could hide that Jean had been through hell. Jeremy squeezed Kevin’s arm, a grim look on his face.

And then there was Andrew. A sound escaped Neil. The same combination of gasp and groan that came from being submerged in water, deprived of oxygen to the point of pain. He pushed people aside until he was right in front of him, Neil’s hand resting on the screen.

He was so obviously drugged, it didn’t take a doctor to see it. There were no outer signs of violence, except that he had maybe lost some weight, but nothing too serious. But the look in his eyes made Neil press his fingers harder against the screen. Andrew knew what was going on around him, his eyes were angry yet unfocused. He couldn’t do anything. His body didn’t belong to him right now. Neil felt his blood boiling for the first time since his arrival in 13.

Kathy settled herself more comfortably in the chair across from them and gave Jean a long look. “So… Jean… welcome back.”

Riko, Kathy and Jean had a few empty exchanges in which it became obvious that no fine clothes could conceal the pain Jean felt when he moved. His eyes were hollow and he had developed some sort of nervous tremor in his hands.

“Jean, you played a crucial part in the plan of destroying the arena which led to the abduction of a few of your fellow tributes. Help us to understand,” Kathy started.

Jean didn’t even look at her when he answered, “I didn’t want to. But I had no choice, Kevin—” he stopped as if he had lost his train of thought, but continued after a moment, “Kevin forced me to. He threatened me with… with my sister.”

Kathy nodded slowly. “Kevin Day who led the attack on the arena.” She turned towards Riko who wore an equally somber expression as if he were very much affected by Kevin’s betrayal. “You grew up with Kevin, Riko. Were there any indications in the past that suggested he would turn his back on his family and support people with the goal of throwing the country into chaos?”

“You know Kathy, I wish I could say no,” Riko said with a bleak smile. “As you said, he is still my brother and after my uncle’s loss I thought we had grown even closer. But in hindsight I have to say, ever since his accident he was… changed.”

“You are referring to the skiing tragedy that occurred two years ago?” Kathy inquired.

“Yes, exactly. I think Kevin always battled with some sort of jealousy of me. I know he didn’t mean to, but eventually he gave in to it. Was prone to fall for rebel propaganda if it meant hurting me. I should have taken better care of him. But after he met Neil it was only a matter of time. Kevin is so easily influenced by people with stronger personalities.” The only thing missing was Riko wiping a fake tear from his eye to make the performance complete.

“You think Neil Josten was part of this plan all along?” Kathy asked, her eyes darting over to Andrew who could do nothing but stare at her.

Riko scoffed. “Oh, please. I don’t think Neil Josten knows what he is doing. Just look at him, he had no idea what to do with the wire. He is clearly not with the rebellion by choice. We could save Andrew, and now we hope to find a way to bring Neil back to his family.”

Neil swallowed when Riko looked directly into the camera. The threat couldn’t be clearer.

“And so do we,” Kathy agreed before turning once again back to Jean. “Your sister is still in District 4, trapped right in the middle of the rioting. What are your thoughts on this war?”

It was subtle, but since Neil knew how Riko operated he could see his hand tightening around Jean’s arm. Jean took a deep breath and then said, “I want everyone watching – whether you’re in the Capitol or the rebel side – to stop for just a moment and think about what this war could mean. For human beings. We can’t fight each other. There won’t be enough of us left to keep going. If everybody doesn’t lay down their weapons – and I mean, as in very soon – it’s all over, anyway.”

“So… you’re calling for a ceasefire?” Kathy asked.

“Yes. I’m calling for a ceasefire,” said Jean tiredly.

Kathy turned to the camera. “Alright. I think that wraps it up. So back to our regularly scheduled programming.”

Music played them out and for a moment Neil watched as Riko stood up and walked over to Andrew. He leaned over Andrew’s left shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Then there was a woman reading a list of expected shortages in the Capitol – fresh fruit, solar batteries, soap.

Neil watched her with uncharacteristic absorption, because he knew everyone would be waiting for his reaction to the interview. But there was no way he could process it all so quickly. Seeing Andrew alive, but undoubtedly medicated against his will to keep him calm. Jean’s obvious torture and his forced cooperation with the Capitol now that he had called for ceasefire.

Behind him, Neil could hear the accusations against Jean building. The words  _ traitor _ ,  _ liar _ and  _ enemy _ bounced off the walls. Others countered by pointing out Jean’s evident distraught state. Next to him, Kevin seemed to be close to a panic attack. And since District 13 forbade any production or consumption of intoxicating beverages, he had no way of drowning it. No one even mentioned Andrew.

Neil decided the best thing to do was clear out. As he reached the door, Whittier’s voice rose above the others. “You have not been dismissed, Soldier Josten.” This form of address was still as unfamiliar as it was ridiculous. Everyone was called Soldier, with the exception of higher ranking officials.

One of Whittier’s men laid a hand on Neil’s arm. It wasn’t an aggressive move, but of course Neil reacted defensively to the unfamiliar touch. He jerked his arm free and took off running down the halls. Behind him, there was the sound of scuffle, but he didn’t stop. His mind did a quick inventory of all the odd little hiding places he had found in the last three weeks, and he wound up in a supply room in the Education Center that was perfect, because no one ever seemed to need school supplies. They were so frugal with things here, waste was practically a criminal activity. He curled up against a crate of chalk and took deep, slow breaths.

“You’re alive,” he whispered, pressing his palms against his cheeks. Andrew was alive. He didn’t look hurt, but with Riko that didn’t mean anything. At least his father hadn’t touched him then. Subtlety had never been his father’s strong point. Mind games were unnecessary if he could just cut and inflict as much physical pain as possible. The mind followed after enough torture anyway.

After a while, the door opened and someone slipped in. Wymack slid down beside Neil, arms resting on his knees. They sat in silence for a while until Wymack said, “You need to stop running every time things get uncomfortable. Rhemann is a good man, he simply wanted you to stay to discuss things.”

“Who’s that?” Neil asked. He tried to remind himself that it was only Wymack who was sitting next to him in half-darkness. Everything was fine, he was fine.

“Oh, you know. Whittier’s right-hand man. The one who tried to stop you. Seriously, Neil, he has talked to you several times now.”

Neil shrugged. “They look all the same to me.” He bit his lips and added, “They don’t care about Andrew. Or Jean. They mean nothing to them.” How could they dismiss Andrew’s life so easily when there was nothing more important to Neil?

Wymack’s expression darkened. “I know. But Jean might have done a lot of damage tonight. Most of the rebels will not listen to what he said, of course. But there are districts where the resistance is shakier. The ceasefire’s clearly Ichirou Moriyama’s idea. But said by Jean it seemed so reasonable.”

“He’s been clearly tortured,” Neil said, wrapping his arms around his tucked up legs.

“The people want to see what they want to see,” Wymack replied.

They fell silent again. Finally, Neil asked, “What am I supposed to do?” Now that Andrew was alive he had to get him out. Even if he had to surrender his own life in exchange for Andrew’s.

Wymack stared at him for a few moments before rubbing over his face with his palms. “Neil, you have something they clearly want from you. Use it.” He got up, brushing the dust of his pants and left.

Neil waited another few minutes or so before he followed Wymack. He knew what he had to do.

When he returned to Compartment 307 Nicky wasn’t back yet, but Aaron was preparing for his shift in the hospital. While everyone wore the same gray pants and shirt, medical staff like Aaron had an additional white outfit. Aaron was just slipping on his white shirt when Neil entered. They usually ignored each other, so Neil didn’t bother with a greeting and went straight to the middle drawer that contained his clothes. Under them, he kept a few items he had had on him when he had been lifted from the arena. The fox paw pin. The spile for tapping trees. And the pearl for Andrew. The bow and arrows had been confiscated because only guards had clearance to carry weapons.

Neil took out the pearl and sat back on his bed cross-legged. He stared at it for a while, watching its iridescent surface in the ugly yellow lightning from the ceiling lamp. He had completely forgotten about Aaron until he said, “I can’t believe you let him out of your sight that night.”

He stood there, arms crossed, his eyes hostile. Neil closed his hand around the pearl to a fist and returned Aaron’s glare blankly. “I play it over and over in my head. What I could have done to keep him by my side without breaking the alliance. But nothing comes to me.”

Aaron sneered at him. “What you could have done? How about breaking that fucking useless alliance?” His voice grew louder, the accusation no longer directed towards Neil alone. “You know he’s there because of you! Because he had to go back for you!” It was obvious Aaron was blaming himself, too, for Andrew volunteering for him over some promise that had become null and void a few months later.

Any sympathy Neil felt for Aaron dissolved after his next words, though.

“You knew Andrew was easy prey. You could manipulate him to protect you to your heart’s content. Always sure that Andrew would throw himself right in the line of fire for you.”

Neil was up on his feet so fast, his vision blackened for a moment. “Fuck you,” he hissed. Apparently they were dealing out low blows now. So Neil didn’t hold back. “He wouldn’t be in the Capitol right now if you would have just gone to the fucking Games! Drake would have never found him!”

For a second they stared at each other, both heavily breathing, the things they had thrown each other in the face between them. Then Aaron lunged at Neil and they crashed against the chest of drawers, the hard wood pressing in Neil’s back. Neil clawed at Aaron’s arm while Aaron raised his fist for a punch. Before he could take the swing, however, the door burst open with Nicky, Matt and Dan stumbling in.

Matt hauled Aaron off Neil and Dan asked brusquely if they had lost their minds. Neil and Aaron didn’t respond, they just stared at each other until Aaron wrestled himself free, snatched his bag and stormed off. After a quick glance to Neil, Nicky followed him hurriedly.

“You okay?” Dan asked Neil.

“I’m fine,” he said, picking up the pearl that had fallen to the floor. He glanced at Matt and Dan who were both watching him expectantly as if he would suddenly break down or something. “I’m just tired, it’s been a long day.”

Matt nodded. “Alright, Neil. If you want to talk or anything, you know where to find us, yes?”

“Yes.” He didn’t wait for them to leave, instead he lay down on his bed, pearl pressed to his lips. It was soothing for some reason. Like a warm kiss from Andrew himself. King and Sir who had hid under Nicky’s bed during the commotion jumped to Neil on the bed. With the pearl against his lips, the cats curled up beside him and the familiar smell of the sweater Neil allowed himself for the first time to actively remember Andrew. His voice, his appearance, the feeling of his hands on Neil’s body, in his hair. And Neil felt his heart tightening in fear and loss, but there was also the tiny little flutter of hope that wouldn’t die out no matter how hard he tried.

In the morning, Neil saw on his arm that  _ 7:00 – Breakfast _ was directly followed by  _ 7:30 – Command _ , which was fine since he may as well start the ball rolling for Andrew’s rescue.

In the dining hall, he flashed his schedule, which included some kind of ID number, in front of a sensor. Maybe this was the reason his mother had never even considered District 13. It was even harder to go by unnoticed here. On the other hand, they could have used any name and been done with running. But who knew his mother’s reasoning?

As Neil slid his tray along the metal shelf before the vats of food, he saw breakfast was basically the same as in the hospital – a bowl of hot grain, a cup of milk and a small scoop of fruit or vegetables. Today, mashed turnips. All of it came from 13’s underground farms which made the few people from District 10 and 11 highly coveted.

Neil sat at a random table and shoveled his food down. Renee was the first to set her tray beside him. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks and she offered him a gentle smile.

“You look like shit,” Allison told him, taking the seat opposite of him. “But what else is new? Everyone here looks like they want to melt into the cement walls.” She was no exception to the dress regulations. Make-up was also no option and she wore her long hair in a simple ponytail instead of her usual complicated style. “Do these people know you can rebel and also look good while doing so?”

Dan, Nicky and Katelyn joined them, immediately joining in Allison’s complaints. Erik came over and placed a kiss on Nicky’s hair. “I wish I could go outside more often. I miss the sun,” he sighed wistfully.

“Soldier Klose, is District 13’s personal sun, Jeremy Knox, not enough for you?” Dan asked with fake censure in her voice. They all laughed and Erik grabbed Nicky’s head to press him against his chest. “I have my own light of my life.” Everyone groaned at Erik’s big grin.

“Gross, keep the romantic stuff to yourself,” Allison complained.

“Everyone at this table is in a committed relationship, Allison. Don’t act like you’re not the sappiest of us all,” Matt said. That was around the time everyone seemed to remember Neil and an awkward silence befell them. It was apparent they all had decided to act like the past few weeks hadn’t happened. For Neil. Matt had probably warned them. Better not touch, and certainly don’t start with Andrew. Neil felt for the pearl in his pants pocket.

“Maybe I could talk to them. We could do hunting trips,” he said to Erik eventually. Erik seemed like a guy who would learn quickly, even if his only experiences lay within fishing. They all blinked in surprise at Neil until Erik nodded. “That would be nice.”

As it turned out Renee had also been ordered to Command, along with Matt. They all broke up after breakfast to follow their daily duties. Matt and Renee talked and took their time, so by the time they arrived, Whittier, Kevin, Jeremy, Wymack and all important people had already assembled.

Neil didn’t sit down with everyone else which caused the raise of some eyebrows. Wymack gave him a curt, encouraging nod, so Neil cleared his throat. “Yeah, so this is the deal. I’ll be your rebellion leader or whatever you want to call it.”

He waited so they could make their sounds of relief, congratulate, slap one another on the back.

“But I have some conditions.” He licked his lip and felt for the pearl in his pocket. “I get to keep our cats. Andrew’s and mine.” His tiniest request set off an argument. The Capitol rebels saw this as a non-issue – of course he could keep his pet – while those from 13 spelled out what extreme difficulties this presented. Finally it was worked out that Aaron, Nicky and Neil would be moved up to the top level, which had the luxury of a twenty centimeter window above ground. Sir and King may come and go to do their business. They would be expected to feed themselves. If they missed curfew, they would be locked out. If they caused any security problems, they would be shot immediately.

If they shot the cats, Neil would probably shoot the shooters, too. And if the cats looked too thin, he could slip them a few entrails, provided his next request was allowed.

“I want to go hunting. Out in the woods. With a… friend,” he said.

That gave everyone a pause.

“You can have the meat for the kitchen. Also I would get better, faster, less… unstable,” he added calmly.

Kevin began to explain the drawback here – the dangers, the extra security, the risk of injury – but Whittier cut him off. “No. Let them. Give them two hours a day, deducted from their training time. A quarter-mile radius. With communication units and tracker anklets. So what’s next?”

“I want Matt, Dan and Renee on my team.” It was a spontaneous decision, but as he saw Renee and Matt sitting there, he couldn’t imagine doing all of this alone. And they would back him up for his next request. The most important one.

“On your team how? Off camera? By your side at all times?” Whittier asked.

Kevin jumped in. “They can be fellow rebels on-screen which means they are stuck together around the clock anyway.”

Whittier nodded in agreement. “Anything else?”

“Andrew and Jean are to be rescued to the earliest possible opportunity or I won’t do anything.” He paused before he added, “And Seth.” Frankly, he didn’t care for Seth, but he owed the man as much since he had been ready to die for Neil.

“No,” said Whittier right away.

“Yes,” Neil shot back. “It’s not their fault you abandoned them in the arena. We all know what the Capitol’s doing to them.”

“I won’t waste valuable resources for three people. If they survive the war, they are to be pardoned of any war crimes, provided they live so long,” Whittier said.

“No!” Neil slammed his hand on the table before him, his voice full and resonant, hot anger surging through his veins. “You will rescue them as soon as possible and you will personally pledge this in front of the entire population of District 13 and the remainder of 12. Today. It will be recorded. You will hold yourself and your government responsible for their safety, or you’ll find yourself another fucking symbol for this fucking revolution!”

His words hung in the air for a long moment.

“That’s him!” Neil heard Kevin hiss to Wymack. “Right there. With the costume, gunfire in the background, just a hint of smoke.”

Wymack gave Neil a tight smile. “Yes, that’s what we want.”

Neil didn’t turn his attention from Whittier. He could see him tallying the cost of Neil’s ultimatum, weighing it against his possible worth.

“What do you say, President?” asked Wymack.

“Alright,” Whittier said finally. “But you’d better perform. And the time of the rescue lies within my people’s judgment.”

They probably wanted to see if Neil could hold up his end of the deal before they would even consider such a mission. Neil slowly breathed out, trying to quell the images of Andrew during the interview and what Riko could do to him. “I’ll perform when you’ve made the announcement,” he said.

“Call a national security assembly during Reflection today,” Whittier ordered. “I’ll make the announcement then. Is there anything left on your list, Neil?”

“No.” All he wanted was to have Andrew back.

Whittier’s eyes flickered to his arm, then to the clock. He, too, had a schedule to adhere to. “I’ll leave him in your hands, then, Kevin, David.” He exited the room, followed by his team, leaving only Kevin, Jeremy, Wymack, Renee, Matt and Neil himself.

“Great. Wonderful.” Kevin sunk down, elbows on the table, rubbing his eyes. “I could really use a drink now. Or coffee. Why is it so unthinkable to have something to wash down the gruel and turnips?”

Jeremy laughed. “Wars don’t last forever. Just watch out, the next time you complain you can bathe yourself in coffee in President Moriyama’s mansion.”

That only made Kevin lower his head more, a strangled noise leaving his lips. How and why he had even managed to defy the Moriyama’s in the first place was still a mystery to Neil. He didn’t really care enough to ask, but he had a hunch it had something to do with Jeremy and his endless supply of optimism. For some reason Kevin wanted to be better for Jeremy.

“So, anyway, glad to have you on the team now,” Jeremy said with a toothy smile. “Kevin and I have a surprise for you and so does Janie, waiting down in the armory. I won’t spoil it by hinting.”

“So what is the plan from now on?” Renee asked.

“To launch an Airtime Assault,” Kevin said, regaining a little bit of his posture. “We want to make a series of what we call propos – which is short for ‘propaganda shots’ – featuring Neil, and broadcast them to the entire population of Panem.”

“How? The Capitol has sole control of the broadcasts,” said Matt.

“We have Janie. A few years ago, she essentially redesigned the underground network that transmits all the programming. She thinks there’s a reasonable chance it can be done. Of course, we’ll need something to air. So, Neil, everyone in the studio is just waiting for you.”

“First the surprise!” Jeremy cut in, already on his feet. He seemed to be more excited than anyone else in the room. Neil cast a searching look to Matt who only shrugged his shoulders, as clueless as Neil, and to Wymack and Renee who seemed to know something but only encouraged him to follow Jeremy out into the hall.

“Why is it that everyone always knows what’s going on except for me?” Neil mumbled to Matt.

“Well, to be honest you don’t ask many questions,” Matt replied with a lopsided smile.

“Oh, you mean because I’m mentally unstable they don’t want to tell me anything?” Neil asked dryly. “What do they think of me? That I’ll attack them with my teeth?”

“You certainly left an impression with Kevin’s face.”

They boarded a lift, and Kevin checked his notes. “Compartment Ten-Oh-Three.” He pressed a button marked  _ 10 _ and the doors slid shut. The lift descended ten levels further down and opened in another white corridor with gray doors.

They stepped out and Jeremy took the lead. He stopped at a door marked with the number  _ 03 _ . He knocked and waited for a muffled voice that told them to come in. Jeremy motioned for Neil to open the door. “We’ll wait here until you call us.”

Frowning Neil glanced one last time at the people he knew, then slipped through the door that fell shut behind him. He stood in another sleeping quarter, roughly the same size as Compartment 307. Only it was designed for one person. One bed only. The remaining space was filled with a large desk and fabrics, sewing utensils and… pictures. Sketches. Designs. Neil swallowed, his heart started to pound in his chest, blood rushing in anticipation.

“Neil,” a familiar voice said left from him. Neil turned around and could only stare, a soundless  _ oh _ on his lips.

Roland smiled at him, the scar running down from his left temple to his left cheek stretched at the movement. He looked exactly like he had been beat up. Another scar ran from his upper lip over his lower one, almost reaching the chin. He had to rest his weight on a cane and seemed to limp with his right leg. But he was alive.

“You’re alive,” Neil said numbly.

“Kevin expected that something like this,” he gestured from his head down to his feet, “would happen after your interview and took precautions. He got me out right after you entered the Games.” Roland’s smile dropped. “I watched you in the arena. And Andrew.”

“They left him behind,” Neil said, feeling the words falling from his mouth quickly, desperately. “They left him, and took me. They didn’t care. They don’t care, but I told them I would only help them if they’d get Andrew out and—” He stopped. Stared at Roland. Thought about the cats. “He’ll think I abandoned him.”

Roland waved him over. “Come here, Neil. Let me show you something.” Neil followed him to the desk that was littered with sketches, fabric, needles and other things that left almost no working space. Roland offered him a large sketchbook bound in black leather. “I told Kevin he should bring you to me only when you had made a decision. Be it for the rebellion or against it. So, since you demanded Andrew from them, I guess you accepted your role as the leader and symbol of the rebellion?”

Neil nodded and opened the book. He turned the pages slowly, seeing each detail of the uniform. The carefully tailored layers of body armor, the hidden weapons in the boots and belt, the special reinforcements over Neil’s heart.

“I made it for you,” Roland said.

“When?” Neil couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Well, after the Anniversary Year announcement. A few weeks before the Games, I guess.” Roland took the book gently from Neil’s hands and placed it back on the table. Then he put his forefinger under Neil’s chin and tilted his head up until their eyes were locked. “I have your uniforms. It was all I could do in the last few weeks. I know you want to storm the Capitol right away, but try to do follow Kevin’s and Wymack’s instructions. Andrew wouldn’t appreciate it when he returns if you’re already dead.”

Neil held Roland’s gaze and felt the strange little flutter of hope grow in his chest. “So you spent all this time on another outfit for me?” No wonder he and Andrew got along so well. They were both obsessed with Neil’s clothing choices.

Roland grinned. “You’re going to be the best-dressed rebel in history.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha as if I could kill off Roland???? I'm weak! WEAK!  
> I'm already missing Andrew *sigh*


	21. Blood And Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my amazing, beautiful, incredible [beta](http://marbledmaven.tumblr.com/) !!!  
> Watch out for new faces! <3

After some arguing with Jeremy and Wymack, Kevin released Neil from rebellion duties for the rest of the day. Roland’s survival, which everyone apparently had been aware of except for Matt and Neil, was another thing to digest after the interview with Jean and Andrew. Roland still had some work to do and the others all had their own schedule to attend, so Renee, Matt and Neil were the only ones who headed to lunch.

They were served bean and onion stew with a thick slice of bread and a cup of water. Nicky joined them, breaking out in a relieved sigh when Matt mentioned Roland. “I thought I would explode with the knowledge! I wanted to finally give you some good news, Neil! And then we were forbidden to talk about any of it!”

When their bowls were clean, Matt pulled up his sleeve, revealing his schedule. “I’ve got Nuclear History next.”

Nicky took a look at his own plan and rolled his eyes. “Me, too.”

Renee and Neil checked as well and noticed they both had training now. Since training equaled hunting now, Neil glanced up, searching the tables for Erik. Of course, he wasn’t present with Nicky right in front of Neil. “Where’s Erik?” he asked.

“Advanced special training,” Nicky said. “Don’t ask me what that means, it’s apparently top secret. Whatever, Erik will tell me anyway.”

“Oh.” Neil had intended to take him along, but now he would apparently go alone if Erik was busy.

“Would you mind if I join you?” Renee smiled, it was a little bit more strained than usual but still sincere. In general, she appeared… harder. Tougher. Not that Neil had ever doubted it, but even the militarized District 13 people treated her with the kind of respect they spared for Commander Rhemann or Jeremy Knox. He thought about her question and found he wouldn’t mind her company.

They made their way to the armory where guards provided Neil with his golden bow from the arena, another one for Renee, as well as knives and a burlap sack that was meant for a game bag. Neil tolerated having the tracker clamped to his ankle, tried to look as if he was listening when they explained how to use the handheld communicator. The only thing that stuck in his head was that it had a clock, and they had to be back inside 13 by the designated hour or the hunting privilege would be revoked. That was one rule Neil thought he would make an effort to abide.

They went outside into the large, fenced-in training area beside the woods. Guards opened the well-oiled gates without comment. With a tick of anxiety Neil realized he would be hard-pressed to get past this fence on his own – ten meters high and always buzzing with electricity, topped with razor-sharp curls of steel.

They moved through the woods until the view of the fence had been obscured. In a small clearing, Renee paused and Neil followed her in dropping his head back to bask in the sunlight. Renee turned in a circle, her arms extended at her sides, revolving slowly so as not to set the world spinning. “Sometimes I think the closest I feel to God is right here in his creations,” she said.

Neil didn’t believe in any God, but he could understand her sentiment. The weeks underground made his skin itch and knowing that Andrew was in a similar position, except he wasn’t allowed to see the sky even once made his chest hurt.

The lack of rain Neil had seen in 12 had damaged the plants here as well, leaving some with brittle leaves, building a crunchy carpet under their feet. They took off their shoes. Neil’s didn’t fit right anyway, since in the spirit of waste-not-want-not that ruled 13, he had been issued a pair someone had outgrown. Apparently, he or the former owner walked funny, because they were broken in all wrong.

Renee still remembered what Neil had shown her with the bow. Her precision was as deadly as Neil’s and they hunted silently. It was almost eerie how they needed next to no words to communicate. They anticipated each other’s movements, watched each other’s backs. For a moment Neil felt like he was with Andrew in the arena again, knowing he could count on him. But with Renee it was still different. They thought similar. Or more like Nathaniel and she thought similar. Since they both shared the lack of body weight, they relied on being faster and more accurate. While Andrew would prefer his fists in a fight, blunt force, heavy punches, Renee was like a snake. She waited until suddenly she struck, fast and deadly. Neil still felt like a rabbit, his instinct telling him to run and leave the fighting to others. Even though he had learned by now to attack if he felt threatened enough. He could almost hear Andrew’s voice in his ear, calling him fox boy.

The animals around the district were not nearly suspicious enough. That extra moment it took to place the unfamiliar human scent meant their death. In an hour and a half, they had gotten a mixed dozen – rabbits, squirrels and turkeys – and decided to knock off to spend the remaining time by a pond that must be fed by an underground spring, since the water was cool and sweet.

Neil cleaned the game while Renee closed her eyes and leaned back against a rock, soaking in the sounds and letting the scorching afternoon sun burn her skin. It was a nice change for once. Not that Neil didn’t appreciate his time with Matt, Dan and Nicky. Even Kevin and Jeremy. But they were always talking, asking if he was fine, if he wanted to do anything. And Neil had missed this companionable silence. He missed the nightly cigarettes with no words exchanged. He missed Andrew watching over him while Neil was working on something. He missed Andrew. At least the silence Renee could offer.

After a while Renee’s voice interrupted him, though. “Thank you, Neil.”

He stopped with what he was doing and looked at her, frowning. “For what?”

“For fighting for Andrew. It’s good to know he still has a few people in his corner.” She smiled kindly. The short time outside had given her some different energy back. Her dark eyes twinkled in the sunlight and for a second Neil saw her, like everyone else seemed to be seeing her. A sweetheart. Not a woman that could kill him on the spot.

“I don’t understand why they left him behind. It was his idea with the berries,” Neil said, returning to skinning the rabbit in front of him. “He gave the money to Robin’s and Amal’s families.”

Renee hummed thoughtfully. “He didn’t do those things to rile the Capitol up.”

Neil huffed. “He sure did. He planned the stunt with the berries right after they changed the rules. He knew they wouldn’t keep their word. Why else would he have done it if not to rebel against the Capitol’s Games?”

For a long moment Renee remained silent. Neil wondered if she wouldn’t answer at all when she said, “He didn’t want to die. And he didn’t want you to die. He might have found something that made him want to live after all.”

Neil stopped. He looked up to Renee who had her eyes no longer closed but trained on him. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find any words. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think Aaron had been right. That he had manipulated Andrew into protecting him, even if he had been unaware of it at the time. And really, had he been unaware of it the last time in the arena? Wasn’t that what he had thought while anticipating kissing Andrew for the first time? He was attracted to Andrew because Andrew meant protection to him. Safety. Neil’s head started to hurt and he dropped that line of thinking instantly.

Neither of them talked on the way back, but once they were inside the gate, Renee gave him a resolute look. “We’ll get him back.”

Exhausted from hunting and his lack of sleep, Neil went back to his compartment to find it stripped bare, only to remember they had been moved because of the cats. He made his way up to the top floor and found Compartment E. It looked exactly like Compartment 307, except for the window half a meter wide, twenty centimeters high centered at the top of the outside wall. There was a heavy metal plate that fastened over it, but right now it was propped open, and Sir and King were nowhere to be seen. Neil put on the sweater for comfort and stretched out on his bed while a shaft of afternoon sunlight played on his face. The next thing he knew, Nicky was waking him for _18:00 – Reflection_.

Nicky told him they had been announcing the assembly since lunch. The entire population, except those needed for essential jobs, was required to attend. They followed directions to the Collective, a huge room that easily held the thousands who showed up. It was evident that it had been built for a larger gathering, and perhaps it had held one before the pox epidemic. Neil could see the widespread fallout from that disaster – the pox scars on people’s bodies, the slightly disfigured children.

Katelyn and Aaron led in a group of mobile patients, still wearing their hospital nightgowns and robes. Erik stood among them, the only one in training clothes. Nicky and Neil crossed over to them. “Erik, what happened?” Nicky asked worriedly, touching the white gauze around Erik’s head.

“I think I overdid it in training. Kevin really has some pent up energy he needs to let out,” Erik answered with a slightly off-balance smile. “Why are we meeting here?” He had probably missed the announcements over the day.

“Neil told Whittier he’d lead the rebellion if he’d promise to save Andrew, Jean and Seth as soon as possible,” Nicky told him. “In public, so there are plenty of witnesses.”

Aaron’s head snapped around at that and he stared at Neil with narrowed eyes while Katelyn and Erik cried out happily. Katelyn squeezed Aaron’s hand which made him finally look away. Soon after, Charles Whittier found his way to the podium at the front of the room.

Words were another thing not wasted in 13. Whittier called the audience to attention and told them Neil had consented to take on the role of the symbol of this revolution, provided the other victors – Andrew Minyard, Jean Moreau and Seth Gordon – would be rescued in the near future.

In the rumbling of the crowd, Neil heard the dissent. He supposed no one had doubted he would want to be their rebellion leader. So naming a price – one that could cost them valuable resources while nothing really was gained from it – angered them. Neil stood indifferent to the hostile looks thrown his way.

The president allowed a few moments of unrest, and then continued. Only now the words coming out of his mouth were news to Neil.

“But in return for this unprecedented request, Soldier Josten has promised to devote himself to our cause. It follows that any deviance from his mission, in either motive or deed, will be viewed as a break in this agreement. The rescue would be terminated and the fate of the three victors decided upon after the war. As would his own. Thank you.”

In other words, Neil stepped out of line and they were all dead.

Another force contended with. Another power player who had decided to use Neil as a piece in his games, although things never seemed to go according to plan. First there had been Neil’s father, ready to sell him for whatever debt he had accumulated with the Moriyamas, only for his own wife to run away with his investment. Then the Gamemakers who had made him and Andrew their stars and then had been scrambling to recover from that handful of poisonous berries. And Ichirou Moriyama, trying to use Neil to put out the flames of rebellion, just to have Neil’s every move become inflammatory. Next, the rebels ensnaring him in the metal claw that had lifted him from the arena, designating him to be their symbol, their beacon of this revolution, and then having to recover from the shock that Neil might not want to shine.

And now Charles Whittier, with his fistful of precious nukes and his well-oiled machine of a district, finding it harder to control a single boy than a whole army. But he had been the quickest to determine that Neil had an agenda of his own and was therefore not to be trusted. He had been the first to publicly brand Neil as a threat.

 

Neil ran his fingers through the thick layer of bubbles in his tub. Surprisingly, Roland had only arranged for him to clean up. Nothing else. No make-up, no covering up of unsightly flaws in his face. When a few of the Capitol rebels had protested Roland had silenced them with a single look. “He is a nineteen year old boy in a war. Let him look like that. Dressing him up and painting his face is something the Capitol would do.”

That had shut them up just fine.

After Neil had rinsed the lather from his body and dried himself with a towel, Allison, Roland and two other Capitol rebels appeared as his prep team. The only changes they did were a haircut and his nails. That was until they tried to address the spot on Neil’s arm where Jean had dug out the tracker. None of the medical team had been focusing on looks when they had patched up the gaping hole. Now Neil had a lumpy, jagged scar that rippled out over a space the size of an apple. Usually, his sleeves covered it, but the way Roland’s uniform was designed, the sleeves stopped just above the elbow.

Apparently it was such a concern for the Capitol rebels that Wymack, Renee and Kevin were called in to discuss it.

“Everyone knows I have a scar here,” Neil said annoyed.

“Knowing it and seeing it are two different things,” said a woman. “It’s positively repulsive. We have to think of something.”

Neil almost laughed at her, if they could see his torso they would probably throw up instantly.

“I might have an idea,” said Renee. “I’ll discuss it with Roland.”

Disgusted and also weirdly ashamed for some reason, Neil put his shoes back on so he could head to the dining hall with Allison. They met Aaron, Katelyn, Matt and Dan at a table and Allison immediately started to talk about the makeover. She mimicked the woman from before in a squeaky voice, “It’s positively repulsive.” In a normal voice she added, “What a stupid bitch. You would think they were more used to this kind of shit, they watched the Games every year.”

“They are only used to seeing unpleasant things on screen,” Neil murmured. He touched the scar on his stomach, over the fabric of his shirt. The memory of Andrew touching and asking about them made him lose his appetite.

After lunch, Matt and Neil were scheduled to go down to Special Defense to meet Janie. The Special Defense level was situated a few levels beneath Roland’s quarters and was a beehive of rooms full of computers, labs, research equipment and testing ranges.

When they asked for Janie, they were directed through the maze until they found her working on something that looked like a computer, only smaller. She sat in her wheelchair and upon their entrance looked up to give them a friendly wave.

“Jeremy said you had something for me?” Neil said in lieu of a greeting.

Janie didn’t seem to be bothered by getting straight to business, she simply nodded. “Yes, I do. Your new bow.”

She pressed a hand control on the arm of her chair and wheeled out of the room. As Matt and Neil followed her through twists and turns of Special Defense, she explained about the chair. “I can walk a little now. It’s just that I tire so quickly. It’s easier for me to get around this way.”

Four soldiers guarded the entrance to the hall marked _SPECIAL WEAPONRY_. Checking the schedules printed on their forearms was just a preliminary step. They also had fingerprint, retinal and DNA scans which made Neil extremely nervous even though he knew they only had his DNA marked as Neil Josten. And finally they had to step through special metal detectors. Janie had to leave her wheelchair outside, although they provided her with another once they were through security.

At the door of the armory, they encountered a second round of identification checks – as if their DNA might have changed in the time it took to walk twenty meters down the hallway – and were finally allowed to enter the weapons collection.

Row upon row of firearms, launchers, explosives and armored vehicles. “The Airborne Division is housed separately,” Janie told them.

Neil couldn’t help but slide with his fingertips over the guns on display. He could dismantle one in his sleep, the movements of cleaning it were so deeply ingrained in his muscles he had to jerk back to not take one and just do so.

He didn’t know where a simple bow and arrow could possibly find a place in all this high-tech equipment, but then they came upon a wall of deadly archery weapons. Lethal-looking bows, loaded with scopes and gadgetry, heavy crossbows and arrows in all sizes.

“Matt, maybe you’d like to try out a few of these,” Janie said.

“Seriously?” Matt asked.

“You’ll be issued a gun eventually for battle, of course. But if you appear as part of Neil’s propos, one of these would look a little showier. I thought you might like to find one that suits you.” Janie made a wide gesture as if to tell Matt to just help himself.

Matt nodded enthusiastically and his hands closed around a black crossbow with different sets of arrows. He pointed it around the room, aiming at invisible enemies.

“I’ll be right back,” said Janie. She pressed a code into a panel and a small doorway opened. Neil watched until she disappeared and the door was shut.

“You learn to shoot with crossbows in training?” Neil asked Matt.

Matt dropped the crossbow to his side. “Among other things. Mostly hand-to-hand combat and shooting with a gun. You should come, too. Can’t hurt to learn how to operate a gun. I admit the recoil really surprised me.”

Neil had been surprised, too. He could still feel his mother behind him, hands over Neil’s as he held the gun and she told him to shoot.

“No, thank you,” Neil said. He’d rather use his training time to go out and hunt. Or maybe just to sit in the sun.

Janie wheeled back in with a tall, black rectangular case awkwardly positioned between her footrest and her shoulder. She came to a halt and tilted it towards Neil. “For you.”

Neil set the case flat on the floor and undid the latches along one side. The top opened on silent hinges. Inside the case, on a bed of crushed maroon velvet, lay a stunning black bow. Neil lifted it carefully into the air to examine the exquisite balance and elegant design. There was something else. He had to hold very still to make sure he was not imagining it. The bow was alive in his hands.

Neil pressed it against his cheek and felt the slight hum travel through the bones of his face. “What’s it doing?” he asked.

“Saying hello,” Janie explained with a smile. “It heard your voice.”

“It recognizes my voice?” Neil asked.

“ _Only_ your voice,” she told him. “You see, they wanted me to design a bow based purely on looks. As part of your costume, you know? But I kept thinking, _What a waste_. I mean, what if you need it sometime? As more than an accessory? So I left the outside simple, and left the inside to my imagination. Best explained in practice, though. Want to try those out?”

They did. A target range had already been prepared for them. The arrows Janie had designed were no less remarkable. Neil could shoot with accuracy over one hundred meters. The variety of arrows – razor sharp, incendiary, explosive – turned the bow into a multipurpose weapon. Each one recognizable by a distinctive colored shaft. He had the option of voice override at any time, but had no idea why he would use it. To deactivate the bow’s special properties, Neil need only tell it “Goodnight”. Then it went to sleep until the sound of his voice woke it again.

Afterwards he had to return to Allison and Roland so he could don his costume, which now included a black armband with an orange flame pattern over the scar on his arm. Renee had made it originally for Andrew but had liked the pair she had given him before the Games better. Neil couldn’t see much difference when he caressed the orange embroidery. He had to swallow a few times, desperate to bury the images of their first kiss somewhere they couldn’t suffocate him.

Roland affixed the fox paw pin over Neil’s heart. Neil took up his bow and the sheath of normal arrows that Janie had made, knowing they would never let him walk around with the loaded ones. Then they were out on the soundstage, where Neil seemed to stand for hours while everyone around him adjusted lighting and smoke levels. Eventually, the commands coming via intercom from the invisible people in the glassed-in booth became fewer and fewer.

Kevin and Allison spent more time studying and less time adjusting him. Finally, there was quiet on the set. For a full, uncomfortable five minutes Neil was simply considered. Then Kevin said, “I think that does it.”

Everyone was so excited, so pleased with their work. It was nearly time to break for dinner, but they insisted to continue. Tomorrow they would focus on speeches and interviews and have Neil pretend to be in rebel battles. Today they wanted just one slogan, just one line that they could work into a short propo to show Whittier.

“People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!” That was the line. Neil could tell by the way they presented it that they had spent months, maybe years, working it out and were really proud of it.

It seemed like a mouthful to Neil, though. And stiff. He couldn’t imagine actually saying it in real life. But the woman disgusted by scars was right in Neil’s face, describing a battle he had just been in, and how his comrades-in-arms were all lying dead around him, and how, to rally the living, he must turn to the camera and shout out the line!

Neil was hustled back to his place, and the smoke machine kicked in. Someone called for quiet, the cameras started rolling, and Neil heard “Action!” He felt like a complete idiot when he held his bow over his head and yelled loudly, “ _People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!”_

There was dead silence on set. It went on. And on. Finally, the intercom crackled and Wymack’s voice filled the studio. “Not to say anything, but congratulations on killing this revolution.”

 

They had to cancel any further shoots and it took Wymack all of the next morning to convince the others of Neil’s limitations. That he couldn’t pull it off. He couldn’t stand in a television studio, wearing a costume in a cloud of fake smoke and rally the districts to victory.

They all gathered around the huge table in Command. Whittier and his people. Kevin, Jeremy, Allison and Roland. For some reason also a group from 12 that included Wymack, Abby, Aaron, Katelyn, Renee, her stepmother, Nicky, Betsy and the baker. At the last minute Matt wheeled Janie in, accompanied by Dan.

To Neil’s surprise it was Wymack who welcomed everyone and not Whittier, and by his words Neil understood that they had come at his personal invitation.

The first thing Wymack did was show the footage they had just shot. It seemed Neil had reached some new low. Both his voice and body had a jerky, disjointed quality, like a puppet being manipulated by unseen forces. A feeling far too familiar to Neil’s liking.

“Alright,” Wymack said when it was over. “It’s obvious what a disaster this is. I want everyone to be quiet for a minute. I want you all to think of one incident where Neil Josten genuinely moved you. Not where you were jealous of his clothes, or him going up in flames or he made a halfway decent shot with an arrow. I want to hear one moment where _he_ made you feel something real.”

Silence stretched out and Neil was beginning to think it would never end when Janie spoke up. “When he confronted Kathy and the audience during his first interview. Because he said out loud what every tribute had thought at some point.”

“Good. Excellent example,” said Wymack. He took a blue marker and wrote on a notepad. “Challenging interview.” Wymack looked around the table. “Somebody else.”

Neil was surprised that the next speaker was Commander Rhemann, who Neil thought of as Whittier’s silent bodyguard. “When he told the story. When the girl died.” Somewhere in Neil’s head an image surfaced of Rhemann with a young boy perched up on his hip. In the dining hall, he thought. Neil didn’t know much about father figures, but he was aware good examples had to probably exist somewhere out there. Maybe even in this room. Wymack wrote “Robin’s story” down.

“I cried when he went to the feast to get the medicine for Andrew!” Katelyn blurted out. Then she covered her mouth, like she was sure this had been a bad mistake. Aaron gave her a contemplative look and Neil felt his stomach drop at the memory of it.

But Wymack only nodded. “Oh, yeah. Gets almost killed to save Andrew’s life. Very nice.”

The moments begin to come thick and fast and in no particular order. When he had taken Robin and Andrew on as allies. Thanked the people of District 11 for the bread. Gave Andrew the pearl. His refusal to play the Games after the Capitol’s rules.

Wymack held up the notepad. “So, the question is, what do all of these have in common?”

Neil could only think of Andrew. They all had Andrew in common. He had done all this for Andrew. And for Robin. Nothing else, there was no big mystery behind it.

“They were Neil,” said Matt quietly. “No one told him what to do or say.”

“Unscripted, yes!” Jeremy called out and gave Neil a wide grin. “So we should just leave you alone, right?”

People laughed. Neil could only wish they would.

“That’s all very nice but not helpful,” Kevin said curtly. “His opportunities for being wonderful are pretty limited here in 13. So unless you’re suggesting we toss him into the middle of combat—”

“That’s _exactly_ what I’m suggesting,” said Wymack. “Put him out in the field and just keep the cameras rolling.”

The idea of sending Neil into combat was controversial. But Wymack had a pretty tight case. If Neil performed well only in real-life circumstances, then into them he should go. “Every time we give him lines or force him to act, the best we can hope for is okay. It has to come from him. That’s what people are responding to.”

“Even if we’re careful, we can’t guarantee his safety,” Kevin argued. “He’ll be a target for every—”

“I want to go,” Neil broke in. “If it helps get Andrew out faster, I don’t care.” He ignored Kevin’s glare.

“And if you’re killed?” Whittier asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Make sure you get some footage. You can use that, anyway,” Neil answered. “Our deal doesn’t change after my death, though.”

“Fine,” said Whittier. “But let’s take it one step at a time. Find the least dangerous situation that can evoke some spontaneity in you.” He and Rhemann walked around Command, studying the illuminated district maps that showed the ongoing troop positions in the war.

“Take him into 8 this afternoon. There was heavy bombing this morning, but the raid seemed to have run its course. No signs of the Butcher and his people either. I want him armed with a squad of bodyguards. Camera crew on the ground. David and Kevin, you’ll be airborne and in contact with him. Let’s see what happens there. Does anyone have any other comments?”

No one had any so the room was cleared and Roland brought Neil back to the Remake Room. Since Neil would be in a combat zone, Roland helped him with the armor he had designed. A helmet of some interwoven metal that fitted close to Neil’s head. The material was subtle, like fabric, and could be drawn back like a hood in case he didn’t want it up full-time. A vest to reinforce the protection over his vital organs. A small white earpiece that attached to his collar by wire. Roland secured a mask to Neil’s belt that he didn’t have to wear unless there was a gas attack. And finally, he strapped a sheath divided into three cylinders of arrows to Neil’s back. Right side, fire. Left side, explosive. Center, regular.

“Neil, don’t throw yourself into danger first thing, okay?” Roland said, a worried frown on his face.

“If it convinces them to rescue Andrew faster, I’ll do anything that needs to be done,” Neil replied.

Roland sighed. “That’s certainly not what Andrew wants.”

“What do you know what Andrew wants?” Neil asked hotly. No one had even lifted a finger for Andrew and Jean until now! Sitting back and waiting had only done so much, now he had to take things in his own hands!

“I know enough about Andrew to know what he _doesn’t_ want,” Roland said while adjusting the armband over Neil’s scar. “Be careful.”

Rhemann showed up to escort Neil down to the Airborne Division. As the elevator doors closed before them, Neil snuck a sidelong glance at the commander. He was probably in his mid-forties, with close-cropped graying hair and dark eyes. Incredible posture. Jeremy Knox apparently thought great of him, and he had spoken out today in a way that made Neil think he would rather be friends than enemies. Maybe Neil should give him a chance, but the age and broad frame made Neil shrink back against the opposite elevator wall.

The doors opened on the Hangar again. They were greeted by row after row of different kinds of hovercraft.

“Are they yours?” Neil couldn’t help but ask.

“Some we manufactured. Some were part of the Capitol’s air force. They’ve been updated, of course,” said Rhemann.

“So, you had all this, and you left the rest of the districts defenseless against the Capitol?” Neil didn’t mean to judge. He was only curious and maybe a little bitter. To think 13 could have attacked the Capitol earlier, which also meant his father, and therefore could have saved him from a life on the run and his mother’s inevitable death, gave Neil’s voice a slight edge.

“It’s not that simple,” Rhemann replied tersely, before deciding to explain his district’s actions. “We were in no position to launch a counter-attack until recently. We could barely stay alive. After we’d overthrown and executed the Capitol’s people, only a handful of us even knew how to pilot. We could’ve nuked them with missiles, yes. But there’s always the larger question: if we engage in that type of war with the Capitol, would there be any human life left?”

Neil only shrugged. “Whatever.” Humanity's survival wasn’t really his biggest concern.

Rhemann darted him a scrutinizing glance and shook his head. “Over here, Soldier.” He indicated one of the smaller hovercraft. Neil mounted the stairs and found it packed with the television crew and equipment. Matt, Dan, Renee, Jeremy and Rhemann were dressed in 13’s black military uniforms to fit in with Neil on screen. Everyone else wore dark gray military jumpsuits, even Wymack, although he seemed unhappy about the snugness of his collar.

Kevin stood up and motioned to the four people Neil didn’t know. “Quick introduction, Neil.” He pointed at a young woman with black hair and golden tattoos covering one side of her face down to her neck and vanishing under her collar. “This is Laila Dermott, your director.”

Laila gave Neil a nod and smile. “Hey.”

Neil blinked. “Uh, hey.”

“This is my assistant Alvarez,” Laila said and pointed at the other woman with curly, pink hair. She flashed Neil a genuine grin and a thumbs up. “It’s an honor to meet you!”

“And your cameramen,” Laila continued. “Darius and Atos.”

The burly men waved at Neil and Neil greeted them with a nod. Even more strangers around him.

There was a warning of the upcoming take-off and Neil strapped himself into a seat next to Matt, facing off with Kevin and Wymack. They glided through a maze of tunnels that opened out on a platform. The platform lifted the craft slowly up through the levels. At once they were outside in a large field surrounded by woods, then they rose off and became wrapped in clouds.

Neil realized he had no idea what to expect upon his arrival in 8, or the actual state of the war, or what it would take to win it. He still didn’t really care about that, though, if things went down the wrong way he could still run. With Andrew.

Kevin tried to lay it out in simple terms for Neil. First of all, every district was currently at war with the Capitol, except 2, which had always had a favored relationship with the Moriyamas despite its participation in the Hunger Games. They got more food and better living conditions. After the Dark Days and the supposed destruction of 13, District 2 had become the Capitol’s new center of defense, although it was publicly presented as the home of the nation’s stone quarries, in the same way that 13 had been known for graphite mining. District 2 not only manufactured weaponry, it trained and even supplied Peacekeepers.

Neil knew about that. Lola and her brother Romero had been born in 2. It was also quite logical, since the Capitol could hardly provide enough people for a force that size. They were all volunteering, though, to escape a life in poverty and in the quarries.

“All the other districts are on our side,” Kevin said. “Our goal is to take over the districts one by one, ending with District 2, thus cutting off the Capitol’s supply chain. Then, once it’s weakened, we invade the Capitol itself.”

“If we win, who would be in charge of the government?” Dan asked.

“Everyone,” Kevin told her. “We’re going to form a republic where the people of each district and the Capitol can elect their own representatives to be their voice in a centralized government. Don’t look so suspicious; it’s worked before.”

“In books,” Matt muttered.

“In history books,” said Kevin, crossing his arms over his chest. “If our ancestors could do it, then we can, too.”

Frankly, Neil thought their ancestors didn’t seem much to brag about. They left them with a broken planet and so many wars no one even could remember what they had been fighting about. They clearly hadn’t cared about what would happen to the people who came after them.

“And if we lose?” Neil asked.

This earned him a nervous twitch in Kevin’s eye. He rubbed his scarred hand and said, “If we lose I would expect next year’s Hunger Games to be quite unforgettable. That reminds me.” He took a vial from his vest, shook a few deep red pills into his hand and held them out to Matt and Neil.

“We named them _foxbite_. It’s the same poison as in those berries. The rebels can’t afford for any of us to be captured now. Don’t worry, it will be completely painless.”

Neil took hold of a capsule, unsure of where to put it. Kevin tapped a spot on his shoulder at the front of Neil’s left sleeve. There was a tiny pocket that both secured and concealed the pill. Even if Neil’s hands were tied, he could lean his head forward and bite it free.

The hovercraft made a quick, spiral descent onto a wide road on the outskirts of 8. Almost immediately, the door opened, the stairs slid into place and they were out on the asphalt. The moment the last person disembarked, the equipment retracted. Then the craft lifted off and vanished.

Renee, Dan, Matt, Jeremy and Rhemann made up Neil’s bodyguards. The TV crew sorted through their stuff and once they were done, Rhemann hustled them off the road towards a row of warehouses. They followed him down an alley that ran between two dull gray warehouses, only the occasional access ladder to the roof interrupted the scarred metal walls. When they emerged on to the street, it was like they had entered another world.

The wounded from this morning’s bombing were brought in. On home-made stretchers, in wheelbarrows, on carts, slung across shoulders and clenched tight in arms. Bleeding, limbless, unconscious. Propelled by desperate people to a warehouse with a sloppily painted _H_ above the doorway.

Neil was no stranger to violence, cruelty and missing body parts. But never to such an extent. Never before had he been confronted with so many broken humans. What did they expect him to do here?

A woman directing the incoming patients caught sight of them, did a sort of double take, then suddenly started to run towards them. When Matt noticed her, a low, pained noise escaped him, before calling out, “Mom!” He didn’t meet her halfway, he remained at Neil’s side, waiting for the woman – his mother – to reach him so he could hug her tightly. Fortunately, all eyes stayed dry. Neil was sure he couldn’t deal with tears right now. Matt had probably known about his mother’s whereabouts for a while now. And hadn’t been able to share his worries with Neil, because all Neil had done in the past week was wallow in his own misery. He swallowed the guilt that threatened to break free through his mouth.

Matt’s mother embraced Dan next, and Neil could see her dark brown eyes were puffy with fatigue. She smelled of metal and sweat, and the bandage around her throat had needed changing about three days ago. The strap of the automatic weapon slung across her back dug into her neck and she shifted her shoulder to reposition it.

“This is Commander Boyd of 8,” said Rhemann unnecessarily. “Commander, Soldier Neil Josten.”

She examined Neil with serious eyes, then nodded. “Yes, I know who he is. Call me Randy, you are Matt’s friend after all.”

Neil shook her hand. For a moment he imagined his mother meeting this woman. They would either get along splendidly or tear each other apart.

“We weren’t sure if you were still alive,” Randy said. Not accusingly, but Neil still felt scolded.

“I’m still not sure myself,” he answered. If a big piece of yourself was missing, were you still alive?

“Been in recovery.” Rhemann tapped his head. “Bad concussion. He’s also here to see your wounded.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of those,” said Randy.

“You think this is a good idea?” Renee asked, frowning at the hospital. “Assembling your wounded like this?”

At first Neil thought she meant because of the infection risk. Any sort of contagious disease would spread through this place like wildfire. But then he thought about his father and his usual strategies. And Renee understood, too.

Randy sighed. “It’s slightly better than leaving them to die.”

She waved them towards the door. “Come on in.” And Neil followed her with his team into the hospital. Some sort of heavy, industrial curtain hung the length of the building, forming a sizable corridor. Corpses lay side by side, curtain brushing their heads, white cloths concealing their faces. “We’ve got a mass grave started a few blocks west of here, but I can’t spare manpower to move them yet,” said Randy. She found a slit in the curtain and opened it.

Neil stepped through the curtain and his senses were assaulted instantly. His first impulse was to cover his nose to block out the stench of soiled linen, putrefying flesh and vomit, all ripening in the heat of the warehouse. The thin shafts of sunlight through smudged ceiling windows provided the only illumination.

As Neil’s eyes adjusted, he could make out the wounded in cots, on pallets, on the floor because there were so many to claim the space. The drone of black flies, the moaning of people in pain, and the sobs of their attending loved ones echoed from the walls.

Sweat began to run down Neil’s back, filled his palms. He breathed through his mouth in an attempt to diminish the smell. Matt, Dan and Renee stood close by. He had to perform. The thought of Andrew strapped to a table, unable to be his own master, forced to obey, made Neil move deeper into the warehouse, to walk into the narrow strip between two rows of beds.

“Neil?” a voice croaked out from his left, breaking apart from the general din. “Neil?” The voice belonged to a young woman with an injured leg. She tried to reach for Neil’s hand, but Neil evaded that by crouching down beside her. Blood had seeped through her heavy bandages, which were crawling with flies. Her face reflected her pain, but something else, too, something that seemed completely incongruous with her situation. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” Neil got out.

Joy. That was the expression on her face. She didn’t even know who he really was, and yet his voice erased her suffering momentarily.

“You’re alive! We didn’t know. People said you were, but we didn’t know!” she said excitedly.

“I’m—” he stopped, thinking his words over. “I got pretty banged up. But I got better.” Physically. They had removed his mentally unstable bracelet, but Neil didn’t feel stable.

“I got to tell my brother!” The woman struggled to sit up and called to someone a few beds down. “Riley! Riley! He’s here! It’s Neil Josten!”

A boy, probably about twelve years old, turned to them. Bandages obscured half of his face. The side of his mouth Neil could see opened as if to utter an exclamation. Neil walked to him and murmured a greeting. The boy couldn’t speak, but his good eye fixed on Neil with such intensity, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of Neil’s face. Neil felt his heart stumbling, anxiety rising. Not only did the people here _see_ him, they were elated. For whatever reason they looked up to him.

Neil heard his name rippling through the hot air, spreading out into the hospital. “Neil! Neil Josten!” His name wasn’t Neil. Neil Josten did not exist!

The sounds of pain and grief began to recede, replaced by words of anticipation. From all sides, voices beckoned him. Suddenly he felt Matt’s hand on his head. Neil glanced up to him, taking in Matt’s encouraging smile. And he started to move, clasped the hands extended to him, said hello, how are you, good to meet you. Nothing of importance, no amazing words of inspiration. Perform, perform. But Neil found he couldn’t. And it wasn’t necessary. It was the sight of him, alive, that was the inspiration.

Many asked about Andrew. Noticed Neil’s armband. Assured him Andrew would be fine. They knew Jean had spoken under duress.

They cared about Andrew. They cared about him the same way they cared for Neil.

A new sensation began to germinate inside Neil. But it took until he was standing on a table, waving his final goodbyes to the hoarse chanting of his name, to define it. It was something he had never felt before. Certainly not with his father. Not with his mother. Not with Andrew.

Power. He had a kind power he had never known he possessed. But Ichirou Moriyama had known it, as soon as Neil had opened his mouth during his first interview. Kevin had known when he had guided him through his first Games and eventually had rescued him from the arena. And Whittier knew now. So much so that he must publicly remind his people that Neil was not in control. And Neil realized it wasn’t power he felt with or, like Aaron had implied, over Andrew. It was trust.

When they were outside again, Neil leaned against the warehouse, catching his breath, accepting the canteen of water from Renee. “You did great,” Dan said.

Well, he didn’t throw up or run away, that was mostly it.

“We got some good stuff in there,” said Laila. Neil looked at the cameramen, sweat pouring from under their equipment. Alvarez scribbling notes. He had completely forgotten they had been filming him.

Renee squatted down beside him. “Anyone you knew?”

Neil stared at her worried face, confused until it hit him. He really had to be more careful with his background story. He simply shook his head, frowning at the new wave of guilt washing over him. They had changed him so much in the last year. Andrew would mock him for feeling ashamed for lying. “ _A liar that regrets his lies is useless, fox boy_.” Neil pressed his eyes shut. Was that even Andrew’s voice in his head anymore? It had been so long.

Suddenly Rhemann’s tense voice broke through Neil’s inner turmoil. “We’re to go to the airstrip. Immediately. There’s a problem.”

Matt helped Neil to his feet with one hand and asked, “What kind of problem?”

“Incoming bombers,” Rhemann replied. He reached behind Neil’s neck and yanked Roland’s helmet up on Neil’s head. “Let’s move!”

As they took off running along the front of the warehouse, heading for the alley that lead back to the airstrip, the sirens began to wail. Within seconds, a low-flying V-shaped formation of Capitol hoverplanes appeared above them, and the bombs began to fall. Neil was blown off his feet, into the front wall of the warehouse. There was a searing pain just above the back of his right knee. Neil tried to get up, but Jeremy pushed him back down, shielding Neil’s body with his own. The ground rippled under Neil as bomb after bomb dropped from the planes and detonated.

It was a horrifying sensation being pinned against the wall as bombs rained down. Should something happen to Jeremy and Neil would be buried beneath him, he had no way to escape.

“Neil!” He was startled by Wymack’s voice in his ear.

“I’m here,” Neil answered.

“Listen to me. We can’t land during the bombing, but it’s imperative you’re not spotted,” Wymack said.

“They don’t know I’m here?” Neil had assumed, as usual, it was his presence that had brought in the punishment.

“Intelligence thinks no. That this raid was already scheduled.”

Now Kevin’s voice came up, calm but forceful. Not at all the anxiety riddled person that barely withstood the urge to clasp his hands over his ears the second someone mentioned the Moriyamas. “There’s a light blue warehouse three blocks down from you. It has a bunker in the far north corner. Can you get there?”

“We’ll do our best,” said Jeremy. Kevin’s voice must be in everyone’s ear because the others were getting up. Neil’s eyes searched for Matt, Dan and Renee and saw them on their feet, apparently unharmed.

“You’ve got maybe forty-five seconds to the next wave,” said Wymack.

Rhemann took the lead, but no one else passed Neil. Despite his knee that slowed him down, the others matched his pace, protecting Neil’s sides, his back. Neil forced himself into a sprint as the seconds ticked by. They had just reached another alley, only needed to cross it to arrive at the faded blue façade of the warehouse, when the next wave of the bombs began.

Instinctively, Neil dived into the alley and rolled towards the blue wall. This time it was Matt who threw himself over him to provide one more layer of protection from the bombing. It seemed to go on longer this time, but they were further away.

“You alright?” Matt asked in Neil’s ear. He was panting heavily.

“Yeah. I don’t think they’ve seen me,” Neil answered. “I mean, they’re not following us.”

“No, they’ve targeted something else,” Matt said.

“I know.” Neil could see the realization in Matt’s eyes. Matt was up instantly and shouted to the others, “They’re targeting the hospital!”

“Not your problem,” said Kevin firmly. “Get to the bunker.”

Neil’s eyes met Renee’s, they both had known this would happen sooner or later. With so many wounded gathered in one place. So many targets that were no longer useful for the Capitol after the war.

“Neil.” He heard the warning note in Wymack’s voice. “Don’t you even think about—” Neil yanked the earpiece free and let it hang from its wire. With that distraction gone, he heard the machine-gun fire coming from the roof of a warehouse across the alley. Someone was returning fire. Neil didn’t know why he dashed for the access ladder and began to scale it. He couldn’t place the anger he felt for this unfair attack on people that were already down. His thirst for revenge. He had spent the last weeks doing nothing, wearing himself out over his uselessness regarding Andrew. The cleaver as a warning from his father. Maybe it was time to strike back, even if it was only a little bit.

Neil made the roof and dragged himself onto the tar. He stopped long enough to pull Renee up beside him, and then they took off for the row of machine-gun nests on the street side of the warehouse. They skidded into a nest with a pair of soldiers, hunching down behind the barrier.

“You been trained to use these?” To Neil’s left he saw Randy, slapping the stock of her gun.

“We’d rather use our own weapons,” Renee said. She had a bow like Neil, not as elegant, more suited for military operations.

“Huh, they better work.” Randy pointed to the sky. “The next wave will appear any second now.”

Neil took out the explosive arrows, as did Renee.

“Left,” Neil said. Renee nodded. She would take the right side. Neil rose to his feet, as the hoverplanes appeared, since it was the position he got the best accuracy from. He scored a direct hit on the point plane, blasting a hole in its belly. Renee blew the tail off a second. It flipped and crashed into the street, setting off a series of explosions as its cargo went off.

Without warning, another V formation unveiled. Before Neil or Renee could react, someone hit the point plane while the wing of the second bomber was taken off, causing it to spin into the one behind it. The fourth went down from gunfire.

Dan and Matt high-fived, both equipped with their crossbows. “Alright, that’s it,” Randy said.

Flames and heavy black smoke from the wreckage obscured their view. Renee secured her bow on her back. “Did they hit the hospital?”

“Must have,” Randy said grimly.

As Neil hurried with the others towards the ladders at the far end of the warehouse, the sight of Alvarez and one of the cameramen emerging from behind an air duct surprised him. He had thought they’d still be hunkered down in the alley. Alvarez gave him her thumbs up.

Neil scrambled down a ladder. When his feet hit the ground, he found Rhemann, Jeremy, Laila and the other cameramen waiting. Laila waved him towards the hospital as she was talking into her earpiece, “I don’t care, Day! Just give me five more minutes!”

“Oh no,” whispered Dan as they caught sight of the hospital. What used to be the hospital. Neil didn’t stop with the others, he moved past the wounded, past the burning plane wrecks, fixated on the disaster ahead of him. If he thought about his father, about what place he would surely thrive, Neil would imagine exactly something like this. People screaming, running around frantically, but unable to help. The bombs had collapsed the hospital roof and had set the building on fire, effectively trapping the patients within.

Absentmindedly Neil touched the burn scar on his left cheek. Remembering the pain. It didn’t smell like his burned mother, too much smoke and other scents to discern the burning flesh and hair of the people that were eaten alive by the flames.

Matt was at his shoulder. “Come on, Neil. Coach says they can get a hovercraft for us now.”

Neil couldn’t move. He knew his father would target the hospital. That he would never miss such a chance. To scare others off, to prevent the wounded from seeking help. He should have said something. Anything. Rationally seen, he was aware that Randy had known so, too. That there was nothing he could have done.

Slowly, Neil turned his back to the hospital and found Laila, flanked by a cameraman, standing a couple of meters in front of him. Her manner wasn’t even a bit rattled. Cool even.

“Neil,” she said, “Ichirou Moriyama just had them air the bombing live. Then he made an appearance to say that this was his way of sending a message to the rebels. What about you? Would you like to tell the rebels anything?”

The rebels? Not really. His father? Riko? Ichirou?

“Yes,” Neil said forcefully. The red blinking light on one of the cameras caught his eye.

“I am alive and here in District 8, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital full of unarmed men, women and children.” The hot fury he felt made his blood boil. “If there are people out there that think for one second the Capitol will treat them – us – fairly, you’re deluding yourself. Because you know who they are and what they do.”

Neil was moving in towards the camera now, carried forward by his rage. “I have a message for the Moriyamas and everyone that serves them. You can torture us and bomb us and burn everything to the ground, but do you see that?” One of the cameras followed as Neil pointed to the planes burning on the roof of the warehouse across from them. “Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!”

His last words hung in the air. He had performed. All the energy in his body left him at once and for a moment he thought he felt a hand in his neck.

“Cut!” Laila’s voice snapped Neil back to reality. She gave him a nod of approval. “That’s a wrap.”

 

A smaller hovercraft awaited them on the runway. The second they were on board, it took off. No comfortable seats or windows this time. It was some sort of a cargo craft. Neil drifted in and out of sleep, the exhaustion making him see blurred faces while his head hammered madly.

Back in 13 he was allowed to take a bath, but only if he talked to Abby through the closed bathroom door the whole time. Afterwards she looked at his knee and patched him back up. He was assigned to his old hospital bed, sleeping right through the late afternoon and night.

In the morning he was called down to a meeting at Command. Matt came to pick him up. He didn’t look too bad, a bandage peeked out from under his sleeve and a few bruises on his face. He did most of the talking since Neil was still somewhat recovering from his past concussion and another strong headache.

When they got to Command, the only ones who had arrived were Laila, Alvarez and the cameramen Darius and Atos. Alvarez beamed and said, “There’s our little star!” And the others were smiling so genuinely that Neil managed a small smile in return.

The others arrived and Whittier called the meeting to order. “Our Airtime Assault has officially launched. For any of you who missed yesterday’s twenty-hundred broadcast of our first propo – or the seventeen reruns Janie has managed to air since – we will begin replaying it.”

At first, Neil’s screen was black. Then a tiny spark flickered in the center. It blossomed, spread silently eating up the blackness until the entire frame was ablaze with fire. The image of Neil’s fox paw pin emerged, slowly glowing orange-gold.

Suddenly there was Neil, replacing the fox paw, standing before the real flames and smoke of District 8. _“I am alive and here in District 8, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital full of unarmed men, women and children.”_ Cut to the hospital collapsing in on itself, the desperation of onlookers as Neil continued in voice over. _“If there are people out there that think for one second the Capitol will treat them – us – fairly, you’re deluding yourself. Because you know who they are and what they do.”_ Then a montage of the battle came up. From the initial bombs falling, to Neil and the other victors knocking planes out of the sky.

 _“I have a message for the Moriyamas and everyone that serves them. You can torture us and bomb us and burn everything to the ground, but do you see that?”_ The planes burning on the roof of the warehouse. Close-up on the Capitol seal on a wing, which melted back into the image of Neil’s face, challenging the Capitol. _“Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!”_ Flames engulfed the screen again. Superimposed on them in black, solid letters were the words:

**IF WE BURN YOU BURN WITH US**

The words caught fire and the whole screen burned to blackness.

There was a moment of silent relish, then applause.

“Did it play all over Panem? Did they see it in the Capitol?” Jeremy asked.

“Not in the Capitol,” said Kevin. “We couldn’t override their system, although Janie’s working on it. But in all the districts. Even 2.”

Dan leaned down over Neil’s shoulder and hugged him from behind. “You were wonderful! Look at you leading a revolution with nothing but your mouth!”

“He isn’t a bad shot either,” Matt laughed.

Neil started to blend his surroundings out again. All he had done was give Riko more ammunition to hurt Andrew. The second he could think clearly without the sharp pain in his temple he would force them to do something. Tonight. He couldn’t wait any longer.

 

He couldn’t stop moving. When he sat down, his leg started to jiggle nervously as if his body had too much energy. Too much energy, too much energy, too much genie. Genie in a bottle. His thoughts were racing, the second he could catch a clear moment it was already being chased away by an unintelligible buzz. He hadn’t realized he was babbling again until he heard the raspy voice from next door. “I swear on my fucking father’s grave if you don’t shut up now I’ll tell them they can only save their asses by cutting your tongue out.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Andrew laughed hysterically. “You should save your voice for your afternoon torture, Gordon.”

Before Seth could answer, the door that led to the room with their cells opened. Since they had tried this new drug cocktail on him this morning, Andrew found himself laughing at what would be coming next. Funny, funny, how they were so punctual when it came to Seth and his interrogation.

For a moment he felt that flutter inside him. The one he usually felt when he was sober enough and heard that door. The only times he was sober enough, though, were the times he was trapped inside his body. Not able to move, either from pain or medication. Andrew looked down on his naked arms. The bruises were still fresh.

“Did our guard dog lose his bite yet?” Riko stood in front of the big glass panel that trapped Andrew inside his cell. He smiled, obviously in a good mood. Andrew found it more amusing when he had one of his temper tantrums. Sometimes he would slap his employees then.

“Why don’t you come in and find out?” Andrew replied, fletching his teeth as the unnatural smile on his face widened.

“You’re as insufferable as your little, what do you call him? Fox boy?”

Andrew felt his smile falter involuntarily at the mentioning of Neil. A moment later it was back, though. He wanted to claw it off, off with it! His cheeks hurt already. Oh how ironic! Here he was, exposed to danger and threat every second of the day and his sore face muscles would finally make him snap!

Riko seemed to be thinking he had achieved some kind of victory, if the way his smug smile grew was any indication. “It’s a good thing there won’t be anything left of him tomorrow night, right?”

Andrew hated, he _hated_ how that made his stomach drop, even through the drug haze and only for a second. He laughed. “This is so boring. Go away, go away. Find daddy before he dies away without ever loving you.”

Riko slapped a fist against the glass and Andrew clasped a hand over his heart, faking surprise. “When the bombers have razed District 13 to the ground and with it your precious little Nathaniel, I’ll see personally to your execution. Maybe I’ll find a few of your other foster families. I’m sure they miss you. Drake did, after all.”

Jumping up and down, because standing still was no longer an option, Andrew waved Riko off. “Too old, you fool. I’m too old for them, don’t you know?”

Riko clicked his tongue in disdain before he gestured for two guards to come over. “Get him ready for the interview.” To Andrew he said, “This time you will talk. And you will say what I tell you.”

Andrew stopped instantly, straightened his back and saluted. “Yes, sir! Only what you tell me!” Then he laughed again, showing Riko his middle finger. An interview meant at least he wouldn’t be brought to _him_. On the other hand, maybe he could have finally killed him with the new drugs in his system. They made him manic and twitchy, but they didn’t immobilize him like all the others had done.

Oh well, whatever happened, happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha yeeeeah so......... I basically took Katniss' speech in District 8 and put the words in Neil's mouth. I am not joking when I say I spent 80% of the time I was doing this chapter with thinking about a speech Neil could give. Like I don't know, Katniss was all fired up because she cares for the districts and the people fighting. And Neil, well he is not her. But he knows what to say to raise the rebels against the Capitol which harms his father and the Moriyamas in return.  
> Also sorry that Kevin is not an action guy here. I know he likes to join a fight but District 8 was already too crowded haha he's just a history nerd.  
> ((sorry about Andrew))


	22. The Assault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title for this chapter would be "Angst". So much angst. Everyone is so angsty and lots of emotions god!  
> But also cats.

After Whittier had sent everyone off to get to work, Neil made his way back to the hospital. He dozed off for a while, too afraid to actually fall asleep with the pictures of burning plane wracks, his mother’s bones and torn people blending together behind his closed eyes. He had enough nightmares with Andrew and his father already, he didn’t need any new material.

It seemed like he had only shut his eyes for a few minutes, but when Neil opened them, he flinched at the sight of Wymack sitting a meter from his bed. Waiting. Possibly for several hours if the clock was right. For a second Neil thought he would be dragged from bed to learn another lesson from his father.

Wymack leaned forward and dangled something on a thin white wire in front of Neil’s nose. It was hard to focus on, but Neil had a pretty good guess what it was. Wymack dropped it on the sheets.

“That is your earpiece. I will give you exactly one more chance to wear it. If you remove it from your ear again, I’ll have you fitted with this.” He held up some sort of metal headgear. “It’s an alternative audio unit that locks around your skull and under your chin until it’s opened with a key. And I’ll have the only key. If for some reason you are clever enough to disable it” – Wymack dumped the thing on the bed and whipped out a tiny, silver chip – “I’ll authorize them to surgically implant this transmitter into your ear so that I may speak to you twenty-four hours a day.”

So Wymack had not liked Neil’s little stunt in 8. Figured. “I’ll keep the earpiece in,” Neil muttered.

“Excuse me?” Wymack said.

“I’ll keep the earpiece in, coach!” Neil repeated, loud and clear.

“There you go. Good to know you haven’t lost all of your common sense.” Wymack began to rise, but was stopped by Abby who stuck her head through the door, frowning.

“Stop bothering my patients, you old grump,” she scolded Wymack. “He needs to rest, you people do nothing but rush him from one danger into another.”

“Yeah, well, without us he would just throw himself into trouble on his own,” Wymack grumbled. He patted Neil’s foot over the blanket. “See you later. And listen to Abby.”

 

Abby released Neil for dinnertime. He made a quick detour to cuddle with Sir and King, both complaining loudly about his absence. Neil pressed his face against Sir’s soft, orange fur and tried to calm himself for a few minutes. The tension didn’t leave his body completely, his thoughts were jumbling around in his head. After dinner he would go to Command and demand Andrew’s rescue.

Dinner consisted of an extra-large portion of pea soup and the chattering of Nicky and Katelyn. Afterwards Neil headed back to Compartment E where Rhemann intercepted him. “There’s a meeting in Command. Disregard your current schedule.”

“Done,” Neil said. He didn’t even have a schedule for today, except for his release and dinner. “Why do they want me in Command? Did I miss something?” Maybe they came up with the idea of rescuing Andrew on their own.

“I think Laila wanted to show you another propo idea,” Rhemann said.

Disappointed but not surprised, Neil followed the Commander, pondering over the best approach to lay out his cause. He hadn’t come up with anything good when they reached their destination. People had crowded into Command, but they had saved Neil a seat between Kevin and Matt. The screens were already up on the table, showing the regular Capitol feed.

“What’s going on? Aren’t we seeing some kind of propo?” Neil asked.

“No,” said Kevin. “Well, possibly. I don’t know exactly what footage Janie plans to use.”

“Janie thinks she’s found a way to break into the feed nationwide,” Matt explained. “So that our propos will air in the Capitol, too. She’s down working on it in Special Defense now. There’s live programming tonight. One of the Moriyamas is making an appearance or something. I think it’s starting.”

The Capitol seal appeared, underscored by the anthem. Then Neil was staring directly into Riko Moriyama’s eyes as he adjusted his position on a white chair. The camera pulled back to include Andrew, seated beside Riko. The foot of his left leg tapped out a strange, irregular beat. Beads of sweat had broken through the layer of powder on his upper lip and forehead. But it was the maniacal smile on his face that frightened Neil the most. Sometimes Andrew lost it as his face contorted in effort, but it returned right away. It was so forced, Neil expected hooks or something to be holding the corners of Andrew’s mouth in place.

“What are they doing to him?” Neil whispered. Matt grasped his hand, to give him an anchor, and Neil tried to hang on. He felt nauseous. And where was Jean?

Riko began to speak in a cool tone about the need for the ceasefire. He highlighted the damage done to key infrastructure in various districts, and as he spoke, images of the destruction were shown. A broken dam in 7. A derailed train with a pool of toxic waste spilling from the tank cars. A granary collapsing after a fire. All of these he attributed to rebel action. Next to him Andrew grew more and more restless. He laughed when he saw the granary, a distorted, ugly sound. Neil felt his blood freeze.

Then, without warning, Neil was suddenly on television, standing in the flames of District 8.

Jeremy jumped to his feet. “She did it! Janie broke in!”

The room was buzzing with reaction when Riko was back, distracted. He had seen Neil on the monitor, and so had Andrew. He was laughing which made Riko whip around, hissing something in his ear that stopped the laughing but the unnatural wide grin stayed. Riko tried to pick up his speech by moving on to the bombing of a water purification plant, when a clip of Matt talking about the hospital in 8 replaced him. This footage was new to Neil. And then the whole thing broke down into a broadcast battle, as the Capitol tech masters tried to fend off Janie’s attack. But they were unprepared, and Janie, apparently anticipating she would not hold on to control, had an arsenal of five- to ten-second clips to work with. They watched the official presentation deteriorate as it was peppered with choice shots from different propos.

Around Neil the people were cheering Janie on, but Kevin remained still and speechless beside Neil. Neil met Wymack’s eyes from across the room and saw his own dread mirrored back. The recognition that with every cheer, Andrew slipped even further from their grasp.

The Capitol seal was back up, accompanied by a flat audio tone. It lasted for about twenty seconds before Riko and Andrew returned. The set was in turmoil. Frantic exchanges could be heard from off screen. Riko plowed forward, saying that clearly the rebels were now attempting to disrupt the dissemination of information they found incriminating, but both truth and justice would reign. The full broadcast would resume when security had been reinstated. He asked Andrew with an impatient smile if, given tonight’s demonstration, he had any parting thoughts for Neil Josten.

Andrew looked like he was about to throw up. His face was pale and he was breathing heavily, as if he had just run a marathon. The grin on his face weakened and at the mention of Neil’s name, he frowned as if he tried to make sense of it. “Neil…” he said, testing the name on his tongue. He seemed to recognize it because he continued, his head tilted as if he was wondering about something. “How do you think this will end? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you… in 13…” He inhaled sharply, suddenly shaking with silent laughter; his eyes looked insane. “Dead by morning.”

Off camera Riko ordered, “End it!” Janie threw the whole thing into chaos by flashing a still shot of Neil standing in the middle of the hospital at three-second intervals. But between the images, they were privy to the real-life action being played out on the set. Andrew’s attempt to continue speaking. The camera had been knocked down to record the white tiled floor. The scuffle of boots. The impact of a blow, the sudden stop of Andrew’s laughter.

And his blood as it splattered the tiles.

 

The scream began in Neil’s lower back and worked its way up through his body only to jam in his throat. He was mute, choking on his grief. And even if he could release the muscles in his neck, let the sound tear out, would anyone notice it?

The room was in an uproar. Questions and demands rung out as they tried to decipher Andrew’s words.  _ “And you… in 13… dead by morning.” _ Yet no one was asking about the messenger whose blood had been replaced by static. Neil felt his hands shaking, a fear, worse than the terror induced by his father had taken hold of him. This couldn’t be real.

A voice called the others to attention. “Shut up!” Every pair of eyes fell on Wymack. “It’s not some big mystery! He’s telling us we’re about to be attacked. Here. In 13.”

“How would he have that information?”

“Why should we trust him?”

“How do you know?”

Wymack gave a growl of frustration. “They’re beating him bloody while we speak. What more do you need? Neil! Help me out here!”

Neil flinched at Wymack’s booming voice and he saw him realizing his mistake. Calmer, Wymack repeated, “Neil, what do you say?”

Neil had to give himself a shake to free his words. “I don’t know where Andrew got the information. Or if it’s true. But he believes it. He would never lie. Not to me. And they’re killing him, because you couldn’t be bothered to lift a single finger. So please, you could do me a favor and get us all bombed to the ground or you can fucking believe him and save your fucking asses. I don’t care.” Neil stood up, indifferent to the looks he received. He was done here.

“You don’t know him,” Wymack said to Whittier. “We do. Get your people ready.”

Whittier seemed to weigh his options for a moment. When he spoke, he addressed Wymack in an even voice. “Of course, we have prepared for such a scenario. Although it seems counterproductive to the Capitol’s cause to attack us with nuclear missiles. The radiation would be released into the atmosphere, with incalculable environmental results. Even routine bombing could badly damage our military compound, which we know they hope to regain. But even so, given our current alliance with the rebels, those would be viewed as acceptable risks.”

“You think so?” said Wymack, voice sharp and impatient. But the subtleties of irony were more often than not wasted in 13.

“I do. At any rate, we’re overdue for a Level Five security drill,” said Whittier. “Let’s proceed with the lockdown.”

Neil didn’t wait for him to authorize this decision. He was already at the door and on his way to Compartment E when the eardrum-piercing, fear-inducing sirens started. There would be no disregarding this sound, which seemed designed to throw the whole population into a frenzy.

Neil reached his living quarters before the hallways were filled with too many people. He grabbed his game bag and put a frightened King and hissing Sir inside. He had enough time to get the sweater and the pearl, then Matt came to a halt in the doorframe and shouted over the noise, “What are you doing? Come on!”

Matt guided him out of Compartment E, along the hall to a doorway and on to a wide stairway. Streams of people were converging to form a river that flowed only downward. No one shrieked or tried to push ahead. Even the children didn’t resist. They descended, flight after flight, speechless, because no word could be heard above the sound.

Neil looked out for Nicky and Aaron. Renee, who had not attended the meeting, Dan, Roland and Allison. But it was impossible to see anyone but those immediately around him.

Groups of people began to peel off into marked doorways and still Matt directed him downward, until finally the stairs ended at the edge of an enormous cavern. Neil started to walk straight in and Matt stopped him, showed him that he had to wave his schedule in front of a scanner so that he was accounted for.

The place seemed unable to decide if it was natural or man-made. Certain areas of the walls were stone, while steel beams and concrete heavily reinforced others. Sleeping bunks were hewn right into the rock walls. There was a kitchen, bathrooms, a first-aid station. This place had been designed for an extended stay.

White signs with letters or numbers were placed at intervals around the cavern. As Matt told Neil to report to the area that matched his assigned quarters – so E for Compartment E – Kevin walked up to them. “Don’t always run off on your own,” he growled at Neil. He seemed more annoyed than worried, even though 13 was about to be bombed and Andrew would be surely punished in the near future. If he was still alive. Let alone the absence of Jean that couldn’t mean anything good. “Neil, you need to be aware that others will be watching you, so don’t isolate yourself because of Andrew’s setback.”

“What?” Neil said breathless. He couldn’t believe Kevin actually had just downgraded Andrew’s torture and punishment to a setback.

“The other people in the bunker, they’ll be taking their cue on how to react from you,” Kevin said in a tone as if Neil was dim-witted. “If you’re calm and brave, others will try to be as well. If you panic, it could spread like wildfire.”

“Funny, how you tell me not to panic. Do you ever follow your own advice?” Neil said. Kevin looked like he wanted to slap him, but that would probably spread like wildfire, too. Neil decided to ignore Kevin who said something to Matt and crossed to the big letter  _ E  _ posted on a wall. The space consisted of a four-by-four meter square of stone floor delineated by painted lines. Carved into the wall were two bunks – one of them would be sleeping on the floor – and a ground level cube space for storage. A piece of white paper, coated in clear plastic, read  _ Bunker Protocol _ .

Neil stared fixedly at the little black specks on the sheet. For a while, they were obscured by the residual blood droplets that he couldn’t seem to wipe from his vision. A low meow from his bag made Neil blink, and slowly the words came into focus.

_ 1\. Make sure all members of your Compartment are accounted for. _

Aaron and Nicky hadn’t arrived yet, but Neil had been one of the first people to reach the bunker. Sir and King were getting anxious in his bag, but he didn’t dare to let them out while so many people were stumbling around.

_ 2\. Go to the Supply Station and secure one pack for each member of your Compartment. Ready your Living Area. Return pack(s). _

Neil scanned the cavern until he located the Supply Station, a deep room set off by a counter. People waited behind it, but there wasn’t a lot of activity yet. Neil walked over, gave the compartment letter and requested three packs. A man checked a sheet, pulled the specified packs from shelving, and swung them up on the counter. Neil managed to grab all three with both of his hands since his back was still occupied with his own bag and turned to find a group rapidly forming behind him. Was it a matter of timing? Or was Kevin right? Were these people modeling their behavior on Neil’s?

Back at his space, Neil opened one of the packs to find a thin mattress, bedding, two sets of gray clothing, a toothbrush, a comb and a flashlight. On examining the contents of the other packs, he found the only discernible difference was that one pack contained both gray and white outfits. The latter would be for Aaron, in case he had medical duties. After Neil made up the beds, stored the clothes and returned the backpacks, he had nothing to do but observe the last rule.

_ 3\. Await further instructions. _

Neil sat cross-legged on the floor to wait. He opened his bag, let the cats stick their heads out, but they were too afraid to leave it yet. “It’s going to be alright,” he mumbled and stroked King’s head. His world narrowed down to the feeling of soft cat fur, Andrew’s drugged laugh, the look in his eyes as if they were ripping his sanity out and the image of red blood splattered across the white tiles.

“Neil,” someone said, looming over him. It was Nicky and behind him Aaron. Neil told them to take the beds, he would stay on the floor as not to wake them when he moved around. Aaron stared at him, he looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, pale and tight-lipped. Neil couldn’t help comparing him to his brother with the insane grin and the hollow cheeks. Aaron wordlessly took the top bunk and let Nicky settle into the bottom one.

Practically everyone withdrew to their spaces when the doors finally shut. Sir dared to move from the bag and Neil instantly knew what he wanted. He draped him in his blanket so that only his face poked out, just how he liked to be when there was thunder, the one thing that actually frightened him. With Sir secured, Neil pulled on the sweater and let King climb into his lap. She always had had a soft spot for Andrew and the mixed smells of the sweater seemed to calm her. Lastly, Neil took the pearl from the bag and pressed it against his chest, as if it was Andrew’s life and no one could take it away as long as he guarded it.

The faint sound of the sirens cut off sharply. Whittier’s voice came over the district’s audio system, thanking them all for an exemplary evacuation of the upper levels. He stressed that this was not a drill, as Andrew Minyard, the District 12 victor, had possibly made a televised reference to an attack on 13 tonight.

That was when the first bomb hit. There was an initial sense of impact followed by an explosion that resonated in Neil’s innermost parts, the lining of his intestines, the marrow of his bones, the roots of his teeth. He had endured a lot in his life, but being trapped inside a bunker while bombs were raining down on the surface was even for him a novelty. His eyes turned upward, expecting to see giant cracks race across the ceiling, massive chunks of stone raining down on them. But the bunker itself gave only a slight shudder. The lights went out and there was the terrifying moment of total darkness, mixed with speechless human sounds – spontaneous shrieks, ragged breaths, baby whimpers, one bit of mad laughter. Or was that just in his head? Then there was a hum of a generator, and a dim wavering glow replaced the stark lighting that was the norm in 13.

Neil felt Nicky move behind him. He slid down from his bed and beside Neil. “Mind if I take some comfort in the cats?” he asked with a nervous chuckle. He reached out to run his fingers through King’s fur and she started to purr.

“Probably bunker missile,” Nicky muttered absentmindedly. He always started to talk when he was nervous and Neil let him. Everything was better than Andrew in his head. “We learned about them during the orientation for new citizens. They’re designed to penetrate deep in the ground before they go off. Because there is no point in bombing 13 on the surface anymore.”

“Nuclear?” Aaron suddenly asked from beside Nicky. He had climbed down from his bunk, legs tucked up and chin resting on his knees. His eyes were fixated on Sir’s little face as the cat returned the stare.

“Not necessarily,” Nicky said. “Some just have a lot of explosives in them. But… it could be either kind, I guess.”

Things were truly bleak when even Nicky couldn’t muster up any optimism. They fell into silence. Aaron was glancing intently around, probably trying to find Katelyn in the crowd. Nicky simply distracted himself by taking Sir with his blanket into his arms and Neil, Neil pulled the collar of the sweater over his nose, trying to catch the lingering scent of cigarettes. He hardly thought of his mother anymore when he smelled the biting smoke. It was all Andrew now.

Whittier’s voice, a shade grimmer, filled the bunker, the volume level flickering with the lights. “Apparently, Andrew Minyard’s information was sound and we owe him a great debt of gratitude. Sensors indicate the first missile was not nuclear, but very powerful. We expect more will follow. For the duration of the attack, citizens are to stay in their assigned areas unless otherwise notified.”

A soldier alerted Aaron that he was needed in the first-aid station. It almost seemed like he was reluctant to leave Nicky and Neil, but then he caught sight of Katelyn who had been assigned for medical duties as well. Nicky gave him a push. “You’ll be like thirty meters away. Come on, save the day Doctor Minyard.”

Aaron muttered some curses but made his way over to Katelyn and two other people in white. Nicky rubbed his eyes and said, “They are going to train him to be a doctor. Katelyn, too. Abby must be feeling like a proud mother now. Uh, you know. Like a mother should feel like when her children succeed in life.”

Aaron and Katelyn as doctors. They couldn’t even dream of it if they were still in 12. Neil tightened the grip on the pearl. There was a heavy silence between them and somehow Neil knew what would come next.

“Neil… about the broadcast,” Nicky began. Neil didn’t want to talk about it. “How… are you managing?” It was evident Nicky wanted to talk about something else, but settled for this question instead. “And don’t say you’re fine.”

It was true. Whatever the opposite of fine was, that was what Neil was. But there had never been a moment in his life were Neil had been allowed to be anything else but fine. To admit to weakness had always meant his death. Except, he had indulged in the comfort of someone holding him up once. He could feel the phantom sensation of Andrew pressed against his back, combing through his hair as Neil had relived the screams of the people that had become his family in the arena.

“I’ll live,” Neil said eventually. Then he couldn’t help himself but admit, “I think they are going to kill him.” He felt a piercing sort of pain where his heart was. Maybe he was having a heart attack, but it didn’t seem worth mentioning. King who felt his distress pressed her head against Neil’s stomach.

“Neil, I don’t think they will kill Andrew,” Nicky said. His voice lacked his usual solace. Instead it sounded hollow, older. “If they do, they won’t have anyone left you want. They won’t have any way to hurt you.”

And Neil knew he was right. They couldn’t afford to waste Andrew’s life, not if there was the chance to control Neil with it. But Neil also knew what else that meant. They would do whatever it’d take to break Neil. And weren’t his cracks already showing?

 

Three days and nights passed before they were finally released from their prison of safety. Four more bunker missiles fell over this period, all massive, all very damaging, but there was no urgency to the attack. The bombs were spread out over the long hours so that just when they thought the raid was over, another blast sent shock waves through their guts. It felt more designed to keep them in lockdown than to decimate 13. Cripple the district, give the people plenty to do to get the place running again. But no complete destruction. Whittier had been right on that point. They wouldn’t destroy what they wanted to acquire in the future. Dan assumed they wanted to stop the Airtime Assault, at least for a while, and keep Neil off the televisions of Panem.

They received next to no information about what was happening. The screen never came on, and they only got brief audio updates from Whittier about the nature of the bombs.

Inside the bunker, cooperation was the order of the day. They all adhered to a strict schedule for meals and bathing, exercise and sleep. Small periods of socializing were granted to alleviate the tedium. Matt, Dan, Erik and Katelyn often came over. For the cats, but also to take Neil’s mind off the obvious. It rarely worked and after a while they just talked for the sake of talking.

On the fourth day, after twenty-four hours of quiet behind them, Whittier finally announced they could leave the bunker. Their old quarters had been destroyed by the bombings. Everyone had to follow exact directions to their new compartments. They cleaned their spaces, as directed, and filed obediently toward the door.

Before Neil was halfway there, Wymack and Rhemann appeared and pulled him from the line. Wymack signaled for Matt and Dan to join them. People moved to let them by. Out the door, up the stairs, down the hall to one of the lifts, and eventually they arrived at Special Defense.

Rhemann ushered them into a room, virtually identical to Command. Whittier, Kevin, Jeremy, Renee, Laila, Alvarez and everyone else around the table looked exhausted. Someone had finally broken out the coffee – although it obviously was only meant as an emergency stimulant – and Kevin had both hands wrapped tightly around his cup as if at any moment it might be taken away.

There was no small talk. “We need all of you suited up and above ground,” said Whittier. “You have two hours to get footage showing the damage from the bombing, establish that 13’s military unit remains not only functional but dominant, and, most important, that Neil is still alive. Any questions?”

The fear, the loss, the grief from the past days all vanished in an instant as hot, white anger overcame Neil. He felt his heart pounding, his hands shaking, but before he could even open his mouth, Matt asked, “Can we have some coffee?”

Dan’s fingers gripped tightly around Neil’s wrist and she gave him a grim smile. “Wait for it,” she whispered and accepted a steaming cup. On Neil’s other side, Matt squeezed his shoulder and leaned down to reach Neil’s ear. “Don’t antagonize them now. Two more hours, then we’ll force them to act, okay?”

Two more hours in which Andrew had to endure unspeakable things. Neil almost objected, violently, but stopped at what Wymack said next. “Kengo Moriyama is dead.”

“ _ What? _ ” Dan almost lost her coffee through her mouth again but had the sense to swallow. “How? What does this mean? For us? For the war?”

Wymack sighed as he rubbed his tired eyes. “The news came in last night from one of Kevin’s sources. Right after his dying breath. He hasn’t shown his face in public since the last opening ceremonies for the Games. It’s possible he has been sick for a while now hence Ichirou appearing more often without his father. It’s almost certain to assume that Ichirou is the one we were fighting the past few weeks. With Riko as his mouthpiece and the Butcher as his enforcer.”

This changed things. Neil couldn’t quite see how, yet, but there was something that had to be considered with this news.

Neil hadn’t realized someone had used his current distraction to guide him out of the room. It was Roland, unshaven and with red eyes, but he still flashed Neil an encouraging smile. “Let’s blackmail the president after the rebels know you’re still alive, okay? I know you don’t care for this war, Neil, but show your face to the world. Andrew might want to know you’re still with him.”

In the new Remake Room in Special Defense, Roland helped Neil into his attire, combed the tangled mess on his head and applied some minimal powder. In ten minutes, the cast and crew of the next propos were making the circuitous trek to the outside.

After climbing a final ladder, Rhemann hit a lever that opened a trapdoor. Fresh air rushed in. Neil took big gulps and allowed himself to feel how much he actually hated the bunker. They emerged into the woods, and Neil’s hands ran through the leaves overhead. Some were just starting to turn. “What day is it?” he asked no one in particular. Jeremy told him September began next week.

September. That meant Riko had had Andrew in his clutches for four weeks now. Neil examined a leaf on his palm and saw he was shaking. He couldn’t will himself to stop. He tried to calm himself, only two more hours. Two more hours. His breathing was far too rapid for his pace.

Debris started to litter the forest floor. They came to their first crater, thirty meters wide and very deep. Rhemann said anyone on the first ten levels would likely have been killed. They skirted the pit and continued on.

The trees disappeared as they entered the area inside the fence. The craters were ringed with a mixture of old and new rubble. Before the bombing, very little of the current 13 had been above ground. A few guard stations. The training area. About half a meter of the top floor of Neil’s compartment – where the cats’ window had jutted out – with a meter of steel on top of it. Even that had never been meant to withstand more than a superficial attack.

“How much of an edge did Andrew’s warning give you?” asked Wymack.

“About ten minutes before our own systems would’ve detected the missiles,” said Rhemann.

“Did it help?” Neil asked. He thought he would lose his mind if Rhemann said no.

“Absolutely,” Rhemann replied. “Civilian evacuation was completed. Seconds count when you’re under attack. Ten minutes meant lives saved.”

Lives Neil hardly cared about. Lives he would gladly exchange for Andrew’s safety. But he also remembered Nicky and Aaron who had appeared shortly before the first bombs had been dropped.

Laila had the idea to film Neil in front of the ruins of the old Justice Building. With the recent attack, it sat about ten meters away from the edge of a new crater.

As they approached what used to be the grand entrance, Renee pointed out something and the whole party slowed down. Neil didn’t know what the problem was at first, but then he saw the soft orange fur in the bright sunlight. Two foxes, put on display so that there was no mistake they had purposely been placed there. Only when they came closer Neil saw that their deaths had been anything but coincidentally as well.

A wretched sound escaped Neil. The foxes’ tendons had been cut. One had a slit throat, the other had a cleaver buried in its chest. One of the foxes wore a golden collar with a tag attached. Rhemann took a look and read the inscription. “Junior?”

“What does that mean?” Jeremy asked.

Neil took a step back, stumbled against Matt who tried to steady him, but Neil flinched away. “Neil,” several people called out to him. It wasn’t until Wymack approached him, slowly, his hands visible in front of him that Neil could tear his eyes from the dead foxes. He reached out to Wymack who held him up by his shoulders. “It’s him. It’s Andrew and me,” Neil stuttered. “It’s a message for me. For me. They’ll kill him. They’ll kill him.” He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. He stared into Wymack’s dark eyes, felt his hands shaking where they gripped into Wymack’s forearms. “Help me,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Let me,” Wymack replied calmly, so Neil closed his eyes. Wymack said nothing else until Neil’s labored breathing finally smoothed out.

“Someone should clean up here,” Wymack instructed a woman from the team. Then he guided Neil away to where Laila had planned on filming and where rubble obstructed the view of the foxes. “You okay?” He looked so infinitely tired when he asked Neil.

Neil swallowed. This was like the cleaver. A warning. Like having Roland beaten to a pulp while he watched from the tribute tube. Designed to unhinge him. It worked pretty well.

Like then, Neil tried to rally and fight back. Andrew wasn’t dead. They wouldn’t kill him. Andrew was strong. Stronger than Neil could ever be. He would survive, he would live. He would come back.

But as Laila got Darius and Atos in place, Neil felt his anxiety building again. He was so exhausted, so wired, and so unable to keep his mind on anything but Andrew. The cleaver in the fox’s chest was meant for him. The slit throat for Andrew. His father. His father was so close to Andrew.

Neil’s body visibly shook and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. After days in the bunker, he was squinting no matter what direction he turned, and the light hurt. Even in the cool breeze, sweat trickled down his face.

“What do you need from me again?” Neil asked.

“Just a few quick lines that show you’re alive and still fighting,” said Laila.

“Okay.” Neil took his position and then he was staring into the red light. Staring. Staring. “I’ve got nothing. Sorry.”

Alvarez walked up to him. “You feeling okay?” Neil nodded. He couldn’t even muster the strength to say he was fine. Alvarez pulled a small cloth from her pocket and dabbed his face. To Laila she said, “How about you do the question-and-answer game?”

“Good idea,” Laila said. Neil crossed his arms to give him some sort of protection. A quick glance to Matt who gave him a thumbs-up. But he couldn’t hide the worry on his face.

“So, Neil. You’ve survived the Capitol bombing of 13,” Laila started. “How did it compare with what you experienced on the ground in 8?”

“We were so far underground this time, there was no real danger. 13’s alive and well and so am—” His voice cut off in a dry, coughing sound.

“Try the line again,” said Laila. “13’s alive and well and so am I.”

Neil took a breath, trying to force air down into his lungs. “13’s alive and so—” No, that was wrong. He could swear he smelled blood. Someone was laughing, a sharp and maniac sound.

“Neil, just this one line and you’re done today. I promise,” said Laila. “13’s alive and well and so am I.”

Neil swung his arms to loosen himself up. Placed his fists on his hips. Then dropped them to his sides. He wanted to feel for the pearl but remembered that it was with Roland in the Remake Room. Saliva was filling his mouth at a ridiculous rate and he felt vomit at the back of his throat. He swallowed hard and opened his lips so he could get the stupid line out and go hide in the woods and – that was when he lost his voice completely.

It was impossible to be their symbol of rebellion. Impossible to complete even this one sentence. Because everything, simply everything, that he said would be taken out on Andrew. Result in his torture. But not his death. Riko, Ichirou, his father, they all would ensure that his life was much worse than death.

“Cut,” Laila said quietly.

“What’s wrong with him?” Kevin asked under his breath.

Wymack crossed his arms. “He can’t do it without Andrew. He knows everything he says or does will result in Andrew’s torture. He proven to you that he can perform. I think it’s time for you to keep up your end of the deal.”

There was something like a collective sigh of regret from the semicircle of people spread out before him. Because somehow the cracks were running deeper than they all had assumed. And he was breaking. Neil didn’t know if he could pull himself back together one more time. He wasn’t strong enough for this. Had never been. His mother had held him up. Andrew had kept him upright. But they were both gone.

Several sets of arms would embrace him. But in the end, there were only two people that could comfort him right now. Wymack and Renee were the only ones who cared for Andrew, too. They knew him. And they loved him.

Renee took Neil’s arm and pulled him down to sit on the length of a broken marble pillar. She rubbed the back of his hand while Neil stared down at the dirt between his feet.

“Did you see? How weird he acted? What are they doing to him?” Neil said, his voice raspy, it felt like his throat would begin to bleed any second. It started in his hand and turned into a full body tremor, he was crossing some line into hysteria as he said, “It’s my fault.” He didn’t start to cry or to scream, he simply couldn’t stop shaking. He threw up, not much since the food had been strictly controlled in the bunker. Some coffee, maybe. Suddenly there was a needle in his arm and the world slipped away.

 

It must have been strong, whatever they had shot into him, because it was a full day before he came to. His sleep wasn’t peaceful, though. He couldn’t remember a time when it ever had been. There was a sense of emerging from a world of dark, haunted places where Neil had travelled alone. Wymack sat in a chair by Neil’s bed, stubble covering his face, his eyes bloodshot. Neil remembered about Andrew and couldn’t help the low groan. He had wasted a complete day!

Wymack reached out to squeeze Neil’s shoulder. “It’s alright. We’re going to try to get Andrew out. Him, Jean and Seth.”

“What?” Neil’s heart made a jump.

“Kevin’s sending in a rescue team. He has people on the inside. He thinks we can get them back alive,” Wymack said.

“Why now? Why not right away?” Why not sooner? Why wait until they had tortured all information from Seth and Jean and used them against the rebellion. Why did Andrew have to go through all of this for so long?

“Because, as Whittier said, it’s costly. But everyone agrees this is the thing to do. It’s the same choice we made in the arena. To do whatever it takes to keep you going. We can’t lose our symbol now. And you can’t perform unless you know no one will take it out on Andrew.” Wymack offered him a cup. “Here, drink something.”

Neil stared the cup down until Wymack put it back with a sigh. “You’re not serious. This can’t be about me again,” Neil whispered. He hated them. He hated them all so much.

Wymack shrugged. “Not for you. Not for me. But they don’t care about a few lives if it means ending this war.”

Now, Neil decided to take a sip of water after all. He sat up to reach for it. “You knocked me out.”

“Yeah, you were pretty much losing it there. You cracked up and Rhemann left to arrange the mission to get Andrew. No new material, we’re officially in reruns.”

“Well, if Rhemann is leading it, that’s a plus,” Neil said. He trusted the man enough to believe he would give it his best at least.

“Oh, he’s on top of it. It was volunteer only, but he pretended not to notice me waving my hand in the air,” Wymack huffed. “They need at least two walking victors here in 13.”

Neil froze. “What does that mean?” Two victors. But there were Dan, Renee, Matt and Niobe, even though Neil hadn’t seen her since the arena. Also Janie but she was still dependent on her wheelchair. Something was wrong. “Who else volunteered?”

“I think there were seven altogether,” Wymack said evasively.

Neil got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Who else?”

Wymack sighed. He did that a lot lately. “Matt was the first. Dan and Renee jumped in right after. Jeremy, Niobe and a woman named Riker.”

Half of his family gone. Neil tried to imagine that. He saw himself standing over their bodies, having a last look, leaving the room where they lay. But when he opened the door to step out into the world, there was only a tremendous void. A pale gray nothingness that was all his future held. When had he even considered having a future? It must have been shortly after the announcement in his first Games. Two victors. Andrew and him. Going back together.

“I want to go to the Capitol. I want to be part of the rescue mission,” he said.

“They already left. It’s Kengo Moriyama’s funeral, the perfect opportunity. Everyone will attend it,” Wymack told him.

“How long ago did they leave? I could catch up. I could—”

Wymack shook his head. “It’ll never happen. You’re too valuable and too vulnerable. There was talk of sending you to another district to divert the Capitol’s attention further while the rescue takes place. But no one felt like you could handle it.”

The familiar feeling of his father’s temper loosened Neil’s tongue again. “I have to go! I can’t just sit here waiting to hear if they died! There must be something I can do!”

“Alright. Let me talk to Whittier and Kevin. You stay put.” But Neil couldn’t. Wymack’s footsteps were still echoing in the outer hall when Neil fumbled to free himself from the hospital bed. He slipped through the slit in the dividing curtain into the hospital hallway.

He didn’t make it far, he had no destination in mind anyway, before Aaron crossed his path.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Go back,” he growled.

“They’re getting Andrew,” Neil blurted out. Whatever he thought about Aaron, he was one of the few people who actually wanted Andrew back. Not for Neil, not for the rebellion. Simply because it was Andrew, and Andrew’s life was important.

Something crossed Aaron’s face before it settled back into a scowl. “Fuck off, Josten.” He turned around, but Neil could still hear him mumble, “You’re useless to him if you have another breakdown.”

That was when Wymack returned with Kevin in tow. “You’re allowed in Command. As long as we have a signal to the team you can follow the mission on screen over their helmet cameras. And Kevin…” Wymack glanced over to Kevin who looked pale. “We still need post-bombing footage of 13. And something that can keep the Capitol’s attention elsewhere. They’ll broadcast the funeral, so Janie wants to air something from us.”

There was a pause before Kevin nodded. “It’s time to spill a few Capitol secrets.”

Neil had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t take long for him to find out. He stood with Whittier, a few of his people, Janie, Roland and Allison in Special Defense where multiple screens showed different pictures. One was playing the funeral live on the Capitol channel. Another was with Kevin outside in front of the Justice Building. Alvarez and Laila were still discussing something with him. The other seven showed Neil’s friends preparing for the imminent mission in a hovercraft from each camera attached to their helmets. Rhemann said over radio, “We’ve almost reached the drop point.”

It was then that Kevin started to speak. Neil didn’t know what to expect, but certainly not what came next.

“President Moriyama used to… sell me… my body, that is,” Kevin began in a flat, removed tone. “I wasn’t the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he takes something or someone you love. So you do it.”

Jean’s words from the opening ceremonies echoed in Neil’s head.  _ “Word is Capitol people are willing to pay a lot for a night with you.” _ Neil’s skin crawled and suddenly he saw things in a different light. He had been lucky with Andrew. Lucky that everyone had thought they had been in love back then. What if someone had wanted Andrew? And Kengo Moriyama would have threatened to take Aaron’s or Nicky’s life?

“To make themselves feel better, those buyers would make presents of money or jewellery, but I found a much more valuable form of payment.” Kevin’s green eyes were shining with determination. Neil hadn’t noticed until now, but Kevin looked actually better. The lack of alcohol benefitted him and his skin looked much healthier.

“Secrets,” he said. And then Kevin began to weave a tapestry so rich in detail that it couldn’t be anything but real. Tales of strange sexual appetites, betrayals of the heart, bottomless greed and bloody power plays. Neil didn’t know the people Kevin named – all seemed to be prominent Capitol citizens – but he knew, from his childhood and the people’s chattering, the attention the most mild slip in judgment could draw. If a bad haircut could lead to hours of gossip, what would charges of incest, back-stabbing, blackmail and arson produce?

Neil turned his attention back to the rescue team that had successfully infiltrated the Training Center where according to Kevin’s source the victors were held prisoner. They had split up in two groups, Matt, Renee and Jeremy; Dan, Niobe, Rhemann and Riker. They started to scan the floor they were currently on. It looked like it consisted mostly of office rooms, probably for employees.

Neil watched through Jeremy’s head camera as Matt and Renee opened another door. It was as expected another office. A desk with a computer, files in drawers and in shelves, a white lab coat. “Clear,” Matt said and wanted to leave when Renee noticed something. She picked up a file.

_ A. J. Minyard _ it said. When she opened it a disc fell out.

There was a moment of hesitation until Jeremy said, “One minute.”

Renee nodded and put the disc in the computer. Neil’s heart hammered in his chest and he felt an anxious flutter in his gut. For a moment the screen stayed black, then a bright picture appeared. It was a white tiled room with nothing but an examination table and a smaller, metallic one with a few instruments on display. Strapped on the table was Andrew. He wore a light white shirt and trousers. Except for the slow rise and fall of his chest there was no indication that he was even alive. No movement, not even a slight twitch of his fingers. Neil thought he couldn’t breathe, but then there was Roland who told him to inhale deeply.

“So Andrew,” a voice stated from somewhere off the camera. There was some shuffling and a middle-aged man appeared. He had a receding hairline and wore the white lab coat from the office. The few brown strands he still owned where thin like his eyebrows. He didn’t look like much, a face to forget.

Andrew couldn’t do anything but follow the man’s movements with his eyes. He was in pain, his features strained and he seemed to be losing focus. The man stopped next to Andrew’s head and to Neil’s shock and disgust he reached out to pet Andrew’s hair. “What shall we do today? You know, I had this incredible enlightening talk with someone last year. Does Neil know you are ticklish? No? Well, Drake told me—”

“Turn it off!” Neil shouted. He scrambled forward to shout into the radio that connected him to Jeremy’s and the other’s earpieces. “Turn it off!”

Everyone in the room looked at him in bewilderment, Jeremy began to say something, but Renee had the computer already give the disc back. She didn’t even wait another second before she broke the disc in two halves. She took out the pistol with the silencer and shot the disc and computer. “Nothing to see here,” she said coldly. On their way out, Neil noticed the name on the door.  _ Proust _ .

As the team descended further down the Training Center the communication broke off. The signal was lost and wouldn’t return until they were on their way back. With nothing left to do, Kevin, Allison, Roland and Neil tried to fill the dragging minutes in Special Defense. Neil wanted to see the cats. And Nicky. Aaron had probably informed him about Andrew. But he didn’t want to upset them any more. He was nervous. Scared. The hand in Andrew’s hair. What had they done to him? What had the man done to Andrew? Rage, hate and fear turned Neil’s blood into poison. They pushed their lunch around in their bowls with some weak attempts to make conversation. They blew things up on the shooting range. Allison was a surprisingly talented shooter.

Kevin did push-ups. Neil joined him after a while. Kevin started to talk about Jean, but stopped. He cared for him. He couldn’t put it into words. It was dangerous to let things in. No one could know who and what Kevin loved or they would take it from him.

Allison’s long fingernails clacked against the table’s hard surface in an uneven rhythm. She was worried about Renee. Still no news from the team. Tick-tock. It’s a clock. They didn’t want dinner. Roland started to braid Allison’s hair. Neil found laces and started to make knots. Kevin did sit-ups. Allison snapped at Kevin. Kevin snapped back. Neil’s fingers were raw. Roland made him stop for a while. No news. Neil perfected his miniature noose.

It must be midnight, it must be tomorrow when Wymack pushed open the door. “They’re back. We’re wanted in the hospital.”

Neil’s and Allison’s mouths opened with a flood of questions that he cut off with, “That’s all I know.”

Neil ran. Through Special Defense, into the lift, and to the hospital wing. He had lost the others somewhere along the way.

The hospital was in an uproar, with doctors shouting orders and the wounded being wheeled through the halls in their beds.

Neil was sideswiped by a gurney bearing an unconscious, emaciated young man with a shaved head. His flesh showed bruises and oozing scabs. Seth Gordon. Who had actually known rebel secrets. And this was how he had paid for it.

Through a doorway, Neil caught glimpse of Jean Moreau, stripped to the waist. Neil couldn’t see a scrap of skin that wasn’t bloody or bruised. He had Jeremy’s hand in a death grip. Jeremy was talking to him, but Jean could barely stay conscious. Neil continued his way down the hall. He almost ran into Matt. He looked a little worse for wear but was apparently uninjured. “We got them all out. Except Epona, but since she’s from 2, she’s probably not even being held. Andrew’s at the end of the hall. Neil, he’s—”

Neil didn’t let him finish. Andrew was here. Alive. Away from Riko. From his father. Safe. Neil felt light-headed with relief. He rushed past Renee and Dan, both mostly well. Rhemann only had a few scratches.

Andrew was doubled over in pain. One moment he was thrashing around, the next he laughed like he had lost his mind. His hair stuck to his forehead, the white long-sleeved shirt he had also worn in the video had dark spots from all the sweat. Abby tried talking to him. Andrew threw up before settling down on his back. And then his eyes found Neil. His chapped lips formed into a weaker version of the manic grin. “I wondered where you were. Usually you’re the first to show up.” He blinked, tilted his head. “I can’t believe my brain couldn’t come up with a better version.” That was when his eyes got heavy and the sedative finally worked. His whole body went slack and Neil could do nothing but watch as they rolled him away. He tried to follow, of course. But the two soldiers that held him in place wouldn’t budge.

 

Heavily drugged. Highly addictive. Withdrawal. Abby had explained what they had found in Andrew’s blood. No dangerous injuries, except for a hastily stitched up wound over his right eyebrow. Neil saw blood on white tiles. He had stopped her then. He wanted to know it from Andrew. If Andrew wanted to talk about what they had done to him, fine. If not, also fine. It was Andrew’s choice.

In the next few hours many people stopped by. Aaron lingered long enough in the doorway to take his brother’s sleeping form in before he turned around and walked away. Matt and Dan talked to Neil about the mission, how Renee had laid a fire in Proust’s office. All Neil could do was to thank them quietly over and over again. They both hugged him, then they had to go back into their own rooms. Dan had gotten winged which she described as “harmless” and Matt didn’t want to leave her alone. Wymack gave both, Andrew and Neil, a grim look before he left after a minute or so.

Nicky stayed the longest. With Aaron, who returned after a few hours. Maybe he had waited for Neil to leave, but Neil wouldn’t move further than to the bathroom until Andrew woke up again. Nicky filled the silence with stories about King and Sir. How they missed Neil. They slept on the sweater in Neil’s bed and asked for him. In meows, as Nicky described.

They had to leave eventually. Their schedules were still active unlike Neil’s. Since it was around four in the morning, they were granted to start their day at 10:00 tomorrow, as family members of Andrew. But only Neil was allowed to stay. Mostly because no one wanted Neil to make a fuss.

It was early morning when Neil startled from his half-sleep. The clock told him half past six. In half an hour the district would come back to life. His stiff joints creaked when he stood up from the armchair next to Andrew’s bed. He moved around a bit, stretched and turned around looking for any signs of life in Andrew. In the dim hospital lights, he looked straight into a pair of hazel eyes.

“A pipe dream,” Andrew said. His voice was rough and blank. His face showed no emotions.

“I’m not a hallucination,” Neil replied nonplussed. He didn’t dare move closer.

Andrew turned his head back to stare at the ceiling. Neil tried not to be hurt by it, but the pang in his chest was there.

“I don’t know this place,” Andrew told the ceiling. He had to be thirsty. Neil walked over to a small table with a bottle of water and a cup. He filled the cup halfway up and said, “I’ll come over to give you something to drink. Yes or no?”

The question made Andrew glance his way, but only for a second before he lost interest again. When he received no answer, Neil drank the water himself and stayed where he was. A few minutes passed and Neil was sure Andrew had fallen asleep again when he said, “Usually you’re chattier. Always talking.” Neil frowned at that. No one ever had told him he talked too much. Maybe compared to Andrew but still. He wasn’t the talkative type.

“Did they finally manage to blow my brain out? So I’m no longer able to see you in fun scenarios?” Andrew mused flatly. “Boring.”

Neil’s stomach dropped. “Andrew,” he said slowly. “I’m real. I am here.”

Andrew hummed. “I want that water now.”

Neil poured him another cup and made his way over to the bed. He offered Andrew the cup and when he took it their fingers brushed against each other. As if burned, Andrew pulled back and the cup fell to the floor, forming a small puddle under Neil’s feet.

Andrew stared at him unblinkingly. Neil couldn’t do anything but return the look, afraid to go wrong. The picture of Proust with his hand in Andrew’s hair, touched without consent, made him sick.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked.

Neil’s breath quickened. “Yes.”

Fingers hooked under Neil’s collar, and Andrew pulled him down until their faces were only a few centimeters apart. The collar was released and instead Andrew’s hand found the burn scar on Neil’s left cheek. At the feeling of the rough thumb stroking over the marred skin, Neil closed his eyes.

“I want to take a turn,” Andrew said.

Neil opened his eyes. “Okay.”

“Are you real?”

Slowly exhaling, Neil fixated on Andrew’s face, making sure he wouldn’t miss the slightest movement in his expression. “Yes, Andrew. I am real. You are in District 13. Your name is Andrew Minyard. You are twenty years old. You survived the Hunger Games two times. You survived being captured by the Capitol. You are safe.”

Andrew’s hand slid from the scar to Neil’s cheek, found his chin and finally his chewed up bottom lip. “I hate you.”

Neil felt like he could breathe freely for the first time in weeks.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize to so many characters. In the next chapter Neil will walk through the hospital and dump on Jean's, Andrew's and Seth's beds a box of kittens. Let the healing begin. Kevin is a dog person so he gets three puppies.


	23. Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled so much with this chapter. For no apparent reason. I'm still not satisfied with it, but the longer I stared at it the worse it got. Now I am finally free of it :'D  
> Once again my beautiful [beta](http://marbledmaven.tumblr.com/) saved my life!! Thank you so much♥  
> And thank you guys for your support, your comments made me pull myself together to finally finish this chapter!

Neil stood in their new compartment. 2212. Identical to the last one, but with no window. Sir and King had now been issued a daily food allowance and a pan of sand that was kept under the bathroom sink. Neil picked up the sweater from his bed and frowned at it. It was full of cat hair.

“You have three beds and my bag available and you still have to choose the most inconvenient place, don’t you?” he scolded King. She seemed unimpressed as she tilted her head and watched him with her yellow eyes.

“Whatever. Come on now, it’s time.” He opened his game bag and put King and Sir inside. They seemed to be getting used to it, but without the sweater they complained so Neil stuffed it inside as well. He checked the clock to make sure he wouldn’t be there too early and then made his way to the lifts at the end of the hall.

Three days had passed since Andrew’s return. Neil had not left his side for more than five minutes, afraid Andrew could slip back, convinced nothing around him was real. Neil a mere hallucination. Every time someone opened the door to his room Andrew clenched his jaw and only relaxed when it was a familiar face. He wouldn’t let anyone near him except for Abby. And she had to change out of her white medic outfit, because Andrew had had some sort of fit when a doctor had appeared in his white lab coat to check his vitals. He had gone completely still, like a statue, retreating so far in his head that when he had returned he had thought he was only imagining Neil. Again.

It hurt. To see Andrew like that. He was even more averse to touch than before. He barely tolerated Abby seeing to him for medical examination and had almost choked a nurse who had tried to take a blood sample from him.

He touched Neil, though. Mostly the burn scar. Sometimes the scars under his shirt. Neil knew it was to anchor him in reality, to make sure Neil was there. And Neil never asked to touch him in return. Too fresh was the image of Proust with his hand in Andrew’s hair and who knows where else. So Neil thought of other ways to give Andrew comfort.

He arrived in the hospital wing where Katelyn was looking after an unconscious Seth and Jean. They were both so badly injured that they had been sedated to let the superficial wounds heal without them being in constant pain. While Seth looked like he had been tortured for answers, Jean looked like someone had used him as a punching bag. Apparently, they had healed all of his broken bones in the Capitol, several times, so he could survive interrogation. Like Seth, his head had been shaved. Allison and Matt took turns watching over Seth while Kevin sat at Jean’s side, silent and pale. But not today. They all had to adhere to a schedule, after all.

Katelyn waved at Neil and left Jean’s room. “You’re still exempted from your schedule?”

Neil pushed his game bag behind his back. “According to Wymack I am good for nothing right now.”

Katelyn nodded. “At least you washed yourself. No one wanted to say anything, but it was about time.” Sometimes she was so blunt, Neil had to blink his surprise away. She grinned and excused herself to look after another patient.

It was true, Neil had neglected his own personal hygiene over worrying about Andrew, until Andrew had told him this morning to wash himself or he would tell Wymack to hose him down. When Neil had finally mustered up the will to leave, Betsy had appeared. “I’ll watch over him as long as you freshen up, Neil.”

Neil had taken his time, hoping Andrew would talk to her if not to him. Whatever the relationship between them was, she could maybe help him. She had managed to get the twins to talk to each other last winter. At least Andrew had told him as much. It was hard to believe any talking was done since Aaron’s visits mainly consisted of him brooding in a corner while Andrew kept staring at the ceiling.

The nights were hard on Andrew. He was still going through withdrawal and he could hardly keep any meals down. Over the day he kept it mostly together, but after eleven he crashed so bad Neil worried he wouldn’t survive the painful tremors. That was around the time he usually told Neil to fuck off. And Neil left. He would lie down in the free bed in Jean’s room and wait. Wait until Andrew would calm down, never too far away, but out of sight. Because he knew how impossibly hard it was to allow weakness. To let someone else see him fall apart. Andrew needed space. But he didn’t have to be alone.

Neil arrived at Andrew’s closed bedroom door. He wondered if he should knock, in case Betsy was still inside, when the door opened on its own and Betsy looked at him in surprise. “Oh, Neil. Good timing, I was just about to leave. Kitchen duty.” She lifted her arm as if to show him her schedule. Over her shoulder she said, “See you, Andrew.” Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

She left and Neil stepped in. Andrew sat in his bed, looking into space. When he heard Neil he darted him a brief glance that didn’t linger.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?” His voice was flat but Neil sensed some underlying anger. Discontentment.

He placed the game bag at the foot of Andrew’s bed and casually said, “Not really. I don’t think there is anything that I enjoy more than annoying you, you know.”

Andrew didn’t react. Neil opened the bag and picked Sir up to dump him in Andrew’s lap. For a moment Neil felt bad when he saw the way Andrew flinched, well aware of the panic that must have taken hold of him and made his heart race. “I’m so—”

“What the fuck is that?” Andrew interrupted him, pushing Sir’s face away. The scowl on his face and the fact that he didn’t even question the realness of the cat made Neil almost smile. King found her way out of the bag on her own, alerted by Andrew’s voice. She stalked over Andrew’s legs to his stomach where she kneaded the blanket with her front paws and meowed at Andrew reproachfully.

“Don’t give me that shit,” Andrew said to her, trying to push her down. Already used to it, King evaded him easily and curled up under Andrew’s chest. Sir watched them for a moment before returning to the bag. Neil pulled the sweater out and Sir immediately claimed it as his own cushion.

“It’s your turn to look after the kids,” Neil said with a cheeky grin.

“You are an idiot,” Andrew told him as he eyed the wrinkled, orange-green fabric of the sweater. No longer did it smell like Andrew. More like cat and Neil and the bunker. But that was alright, Andrew was here and the sweater could be washed and worn by him again.

“Before I forget it, I have something for you.” Neil rummaged through the bag and when he couldn’t find it he patted himself down until he felt the pearl in his pocket.

“Here,” he said and tossed it to Andrew who caught reflexively. Just like in the arena.

Andrew examined it between his thumb and forefinger before he said, “This is useless.”

“Not for me.” Nights spent with the pearl pressed to his lips, to his chest, in his pocket. A symbol of Andrew’s life for Neil. To be protected, to be kept safe.

Andrew gave him an inscrutable look, then his eye twitched, a sign of irritation, and he closed his fist around the pearl. Neil smiled. Andrew looked away.

The rest of the day passed mostly in silence. Renee dropped in to give Andrew a new set of armbands, orange flame pattern included. Aaron made a short visit to hand his brother a book wordlessly. Nicky and Roland filled the afternoon with their chatter, and in the evening Neil had to bring the cats back. When he came back he found Wymack and Andrew having dinner and joined them.

“I’ll sleep in Jean’s room,” Neil said when it was time to sleep. Andrew didn’t object, but stopped Neil with a “Yes or no?” at the door.

“You know it’s always yes with you,” said Neil and returned to the bed.

“Don’t always me.” Andrew reached out to touch Neil’s face. Felt the hair between his fingers, rubbed his thumb over the burned skin and eventually over Neil’s bottom lip.

“You got burned in the arena. A fire ball,” Andrew mumbled, as if he had to remind himself.

Neil nodded. “Yes.”

A beat of silence. “I want to see the others. Yes or no?”

Neil pulled off his shirt and with only the light from the hallway shining through the ajar door, it felt ten times more intimate when Andrew’s hands ran over Neil’s shoulder and down to his navel. A palm rested over his heart for a moment. Fingertips found the marred flesh left by a hot iron. The bullet scar, looking as hideous as it probably felt to be touched.  _ Positively repulsive _ . Neil stiffened. In an instant Andrew’s hands were gone and Neil struggled for words to explain. “It’s not—It’s fine. Really. It’s still yes. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Why would I suddenly mind?” Andrew asked.

Neil scoffed. “It’s not exactly what people would call amusing, seeing my ugly torso.”

“You don’t seem to be the type to care what people think.”

“I don’t.” But Andrew wasn’t people.

With a huff Andrew gave Neil’s wrist a tug. “It’s still yes?”

“It’s still yes.”

Andrew pulled Neil’s left arm towards him until it was stretched out. Then he turned it so that the underside faced upwards. His fingers found the lump where Jean had cut out his tracker. The unsightly problem that had given the Capitol rebels such a headache.

“That one is new,” Andrew said. His voice betraying nothing but the usual nuance of boredom.

“Jean had to remove the tracker. Here in 13 they don’t place high value on looks.” It was stupid that the words of that one woman affected him as much as they did. He had never much cared about his scars or felt ashamed of the way they looked. None of them had been treated professionally. His mother’s main concern had been to stop the bleeding and prevent any risk of infection. They were hidden underneath his clothes anyway. But they were not concealed from Andrew. Andrew saw him. And his scars.

“It saved your life.” Andrew looked up and their eyes met. Neil felt warmth pool in his chest and down to his gut. Andrew leaned closer and placed a dry, quick kiss on the jagged skin. Nothing more than a brush of lips against skin before he let go. Without another word Andrew turned around to lie back down, eyes fixated on the dark ceiling.

Neil pulled his shirt back on, heart beating against his ribs. He felt the skin tingle where Andrew’s lips had touched it. “Good night,” he whispered. There was no answer and Neil left, his arm protectively pressed against his chest, reliving the sensation of the moment again and again. He climbed into the empty bed in Jean’s room and listened to the beeping of the machines and Jean’s shallow breathing. He fell asleep some time later but woke to the sound of Andrew retching next door, and the opening and closing of Andrew’s bathroom door.

 

After fourteen days Andrew was finally allowed to leave the hospital. The last five days Neil, or anyone else for that matter, wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near him. Neil didn’t know what they were doing to speed up the rehab, but Andrew had agreed to their methods. Matt tried to explain to Neil how the process of getting clean worked, but he had to realize it was different for Andrew. The Capitol medication didn’t work like the morphling, and Andrew hadn’t been exposed long enough to the drugs and experiments to cause long-term damage. But it had messed with his brain. Badly.

Since Neil had to keep a promise, he was busy doing some short propos with Laila and Alvarez on the District 13 surface. A short update on his wellbeing, as well as a summary of the rescue mission. Matt, Dan and Renee did some interviews about past tributes, children they had mentored and met every year for the Games, and also about the fallen victors from the recent Anniversary Year.

It was after lunch when Neil headed to the hospital to pick Andrew up. There had been a problem about quarter arrangements since they couldn’t allow Andrew to live alone in case he had a relapse. Betsy had suggested to room him with someone he already knew to give him as much stability as possible. Neil knew about this because Aaron had intercepted him one night, right before dinner. “You’re moving out.”

Apparently, he had talked with Betsy and Andrew about it, and once it had been approved of, Neil had been the last to know that he would move into yet another compartment. Not that he minded much, he surely preferred Andrew as a roommate over Nicky and Aaron.

The door to Andrew’s room was closed when Neil arrived and he could hear muffled voices from inside. Not in the mood for talking, Neil hid away in Seth’s room. Jean had woken up two days ago, but he had said nothing except that he had to go back. Over and over again. The only times he calmed down or ate anything was when Renee paid him a visit to silently tie knots with him, or with Jeremy who made a point of spending as much time with Jean as possible. Kevin, the coward, hadn’t showed his face ever since. And Neil, afraid of what he might see in Jean, hadn’t checked in on him either. Seth on the other hand was high on drugs. No longer sedated, but in constant pain, they filled him up with morphling which made him unresponsive most of the time. Allison, despite her opinion of him, spent all her free time by his side. Matt refrained from any visits until Seth could say a coherent sentence without morphling.

He was asleep when Neil stepped in. For a moment Neil watched the rise and fall of his chest. Seth was a tall man. Strong arms and back, Neil had seen how he had wielded a heavy longsword with ease. Now he was way too thin for a person of such height. Sunken face, bony wrists and his body covered in slow healing bruises. No one could say for sure how Jean and Seth had been tortured. A lot of pieces were missing and as long as both of them couldn’t talk about it, it would remain a mystery. So the doctors just kept guessing based on the injuries.

It was roughly ten minutes later when Neil heard Andrew’s door being opened. “See you tomorrow,” Abby said as she and Betsy left. Neil waited for a few more seconds before sticking his head through the door to look for Andrew. He hadn’t seen him in five days. He looked exhausted. But also better. He had obviously lost some weight. Courtesy of throwing up everything that had more substance than applesauce, and of course through the malnutrition in the Capitol. He was still pale, but no longer in a sick, grayish way. His lips had gotten some color, too.

“You ready?” Neil asked.

Andrew gave him a flat look. “Don’t you see how much stuff I have to pack?”

He was wearing the government issued gray shirt and pants that everyone wore and an old pair of boots, not unlike Neil’s. Earlier that day a soldier had dropped off another set of clothes for Andrew, a bag with toiletries and bedding. That was all he owned now. Back to zero. With the exception of the pearl and the sweater.

It was a quick journey to their new compartment. Compartment 2227. Same floor as Nicky and Aaron but a few doors down the hall. Andrew received many curious stares as he followed Neil. He ignored them, just like he was completely indifferent to his new surroundings. It was the first time for him to see District 13 in all its underground glory, but it wasn’t even worth a quick glance around. Thankfully, everyone they knew was assigned to some duties around this time, so Andrew who was noticeable tense in the new environment, surrounded by strangers, could settle in untroubled.

Andrew opened the door to 2227 and froze in the doorway. He turned around to give Neil a long, penetrating stare. “Are you fucking serious?”

Neil slipped past him and rubbed his neck, trying to go for abashed. “They belong just as much to our home as we do.”

_ Home. _ Yes, with Andrew back this was Neil’s home.

“If they piss on my pillow you are going to sleep on the floor,” Andrew said. He nudged Sir out of his way with his foot and set out to inspect their living quarters. A bathroom, a bunk bed, the obligatory chest of drawers with their clothes and two chairs.

“I’ll take the top bunk,” Andrew announced.

“Aren’t you afraid to fall down?” Neil asked.

Andrew gave him an unimpressed look. “Don’t get cocky now.”

While Andrew inspected the drawers, Neil played around with the cats and a piece of string. He noticed Andrew throwing the sweater onto his bed and hid a smile in King’s fur. Since there wasn’t much to see, Andrew settled down on Neil’s bed and watched him tease the cats by dangling the string just out of their reach. Without lifting his gaze Neil said, “I have training next. Which is hunting time for me. Do you want to come along?”

There was a moment of silence before Andrew replied, “Outside?”

Andrew’s voice carried the same indifference as always, but there was an edge to the words, something that made him sound breathless. Neil looked up, returned Andrew’s stare and realized how much time had passed since Andrew had seen the sky last. Had felt the sun on his skin, the wind in his hair. He was like Neil, they were not meant to be underground. They needed space, clarity, freedom.

“Yes.” Neil stood up. “Outside.”

 

The September air was crisp, but the sun was still warm enough to enjoy it. The hot, dry summer had passed and made way for fall. The leaves were slowly turning orange, yellow and red, and Neil took a deep breath. He closed his eyes for a moment and took in the damp earth, the sound of birds, the wind rustling the foliage above them. And Andrew. He could feel him nearby, his body heat and his movements.

“Are you one with the nature now?” Andrew asked.

“As it is right now I see fresh air as a privilege,” Neil said, turning around to look at Andrew. He carried a crossbow, a simple one for hunting, and a thin jacket to protect him from the chill. The few sunbeams that broke through the trees warmed one half of his face while the other lay in shadow. It was subtle, but Neil was sure that some of the tension had left Andrew’s body.

They sneaked around for a bit, following a few tracks of different animals until they reached a small river that ran through a clearing. There was rustling in the brush and Neil braced his bow in anticipation, feeling Andrew’s breath in his neck and barely suppressed a pleasing shudder.

It was a fox. Looking cautiously around before it made its way to the water. Neil felt his breath hitch, the image of the two dead foxes with the maimed legs flashing before his eyes. He let the bow sink to grasp his throat, because he felt like he was suffocating. Something was blocking his airway! His heart hammered against his ribcage as if it wanted to escape its bony prison desperately. With his fingers he tried to claw his way through skin and flesh to free his windpipe.

A hand pressed down his nape, forcing Neil to his knees. “Breathe,” Andrew commanded. Neil couldn’t. The fox’s slit throat merged into a bleeding gap in Andrew’s own skin. Like Sola’s bloody smile in the arena. Like Jackson cutting a man down while Neil and his father watched. The cleaver… the cleaver…

Through a haze Neil felt a hand pressing down on his ribs while another rubbed his neck in a steady rhythm. There was breathing against his ear, in and out. In and out. In and out. Slowly Neil felt the knot in his chest loosen with every in and out.

“You are really a walking tragedy, fox boy,” Andrew said flatly, not letting go of Neil. “Ever consider doing some therapy?”

Neil went slack against Andrew, no strength left to hold his body upright. “Why? Every week comes with another trauma, I would never catch up.”

“Shut up. Every time you open your mouth another idiocy come out.” Andrew helped him to his feet before he let go. Neil instantly missed the contact, but said nothing. He had practically forced himself on Andrew there, leaving the other no choice but to touch him.  _ Too close _ , Neil thought.  _ Too close _ . He picked his bow up and saw that the fox had vanished. To somewhere safe in the underbrush.

Since neither of them felt like hunting anymore, Neil led Andrew to the pond he had discovered with Renee a while ago. The water was too cold now, but the rocks around were still warm from the sun, so they sat down to soak it in. Neil wished for a cigarette, but the pack had been destroyed through the bombing, and 13 was not only strict with alcohol but any kind of semi-luxury.

Andrew lay in a patch of grass, arms crossed under his head and eyes closed. Neil watched him for a while. Took in how white his hair looked in the light, the freckles that had been much more prominent in summer and in the arena. Neil’s eyes flickered to Andrew’s lips, only for a moment, and eventually settled for the rise and fall of his chest. In and out. Neil wanted to reach out to feel the life in Andrew, but managed to hold still.

“Staring,” Andrew said.

Neil tried it with blunt honesty for a change. “I am glad that you are back.”

“Coach told me you were moping around the whole time. Talk about wasting time.” He didn’t open his eyes, and there was nothing in his voice that could help Neil to read between the lines.

“I’m sorry,” he said. That he hadn’t done anything sooner. That Andrew had had to suffer because of him. That he could have been dead now, all because Neil had somehow made him believe he was worth his protection.

Andrew opened his eyes to glance at Neil from the corner of his eye. “I don’t care for your guilty conscience. So spare me.”

Neil didn’t reply. For Andrew it made no difference, he probably didn’t even blame Neil. Certainly not for what had happened to him. Because he didn’t care. Just another crime against his person in a long list of others.

“Andrew—” Neil started, but Andrew interrupted him.

“Bee said they found a video. She wants me to talk about it.” He sounded casual, like they were talking about the weather. Except that Andrew would talk about the weather in his usual blank tone, not with this forced lack of emotion. “What did you see?”

Their eyes were locked over the small gap between them. Neil bit his lip, but didn’t dare to look away. He wanted Andrew to know he was not lying to him. “Not much. When I saw where it would go I told them to turn it off. Renee destroyed the disc. And the office.”

“I didn’t ask about that. I want to know  _ what _ .” Andrew’s left hand clenched into a fist before he unclenched it again. Clench and unclench. Clench and unclench.

“You,” Neil said eventually. “A man was with you, a doctor. Uhm, I guess his name was Proust? He started to talk about Drake. That was when I told them to turn it off.”

Andrew scoffed. “How noble of you to protect my privacy.”

“What happened to you? What did he do?” Neil asked slightly annoyed. Why would Andrew not take his own torture more seriously? Everything he had to mock. Everything about his own pain and suffering. It made Neil angry, so angry, to know it hadn’t always been like this. That once Andrew had tried to get help and Luther had failed him. Everyone had failed him.

“Who cares? He was just another one of Riko’s minions.” Not even the memories of the past weeks could make a dent in Andrew’s bored expression.

“I’ll kill Riko,” Neil said.

“Revenge is only for the weak-willed, fox boy,” Andrew said.

“If you believed that you wouldn’t be planning how to kill Proust.”

Andrew gazed at him for what felt like an eternity. Then he motioned for Neil to come closer. After a moment of hesitation, Neil kneeled beside Andrew who didn’t bother to sit up. Instead he pulled Neil down by his collar, close enough for their breath to mingle.

“This is not revenge,” he said. “I warned him what I would do to him if he touched me. This is me keeping my word.”

They stayed like that a few more seconds before Andrew let Neil go. Under any different circumstances Neil would ask for a kiss now, but he didn’t know how anymore. He didn’t know how to approach Andrew. If it was even wanted. So he stretched out beside Andrew, only a few centimeters between them, and stared into the cloudless sky.

He was just dozing off when Andrew sat up beside him. He felt Andrew’s eyes on his face but didn’t bother with opening his own. “I want to try something,” Andrew said then. Neil blinked. “What?”

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked.

“Yes,” Neil said, even though he had no idea what to expect. In the last two weeks this question had usually meant Andrew was starting to question the realness of everything around him and wanted to touch Neil for confirmation. But this time Andrew took Neil’s wrist and lifted his hand up. He stared at it intently for a while, like he had to decide what to do with it. Neil allowed it. Relishing the sensation of their hands touching.

“Don’t move,” Andrew instructed and Neil hummed his agreement. Then Andrew placed Neil’s flat palm on his chest. Neil couldn’t help the slight twitch of his little finger at the sudden contact. Andrew squeezed his wrist in warning, but let go. His heartbeat was strong and steady and Neil withstood the temptation to curl his fingers deeper in the fabric of Andrew’s shirt to seek out the warmth. He looked up, saw Andrew’s face, flushed from the sun, and swallowed down the heat that spread out in his chest and threatened to break free.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Andrew said.

“Like what?”

“Like that.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “You are not as clever as you think you are.”

Andrew took Neil’s hand from his chest as he lay back down, but kept it in his own, examining the calloused back and the raw fingers. It was a stark contrast, Andrew’s paleness against Neil’s tanned skin. He pressed their palms together, comparing their sizes.

“I guess not,” he said.

 

In the morning Neil was expected to attend Nuclear History with Dan and Renee, but he ditched it in favor of accompanying Andrew to the hospital for his check-up. He was aware of Whittier and Kevin getting impatient with his inactivity in rebellion matters, but as long as Andrew couldn’t leave with him, Neil wouldn’t go anywhere. Of course this had provoked another argument between the rebels since they were of the opinion that Neil somehow owed them for Andrew’s rescue. Neil had stood up and left after that. If they forced him they wouldn’t get a good enough performance and they all knew as much. So Wymack had decided to put Andrew on a separate training schedule, starting today, to make him gain weight and fit as part of Neil’s team.

When Andrew left with Abby to an examination room, Neil started to roam the hospital wing. Neither Katelyn nor Aaron were on duty this morning which meant he only saw unfamiliar faces. It was uncomfortable to know that everyone knew him but he only knew a few people by look at most. Some greeted him in passing, others gave him a curt nod. Without even noticing Neil’s feet had carried him to Jean’s room.

The door was open and Neil could see him sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing a hospital gown and frantically tying knots. He seemed to be talking to himself, mumbling unintelligible things, until he suddenly stopped and stared into space. After a few seconds he resumed the knots.

Neil turned to leave, when Jean looked up, right into his face and said, “Nathaniel. Come in.”

Every muscle in Neil’s body tensed, ready to take off in a sprint. His skin crawled and his eyes darted around, searching for anyone who could have heard Jean. Fortunately, the halls were empty this early. Neil ground his teeth, debated what to do and finally made his way over to Jean. He closed the door behind himself and said, “Don’t call me that.”

Jean frowned. “Aren’t you Nath—”

“Neil,” Neil cut in. “My name is Neil.”

“Neil,” Jean echoed. Testing the name as if it was foreign, false. This could become a real problem. “Where is Kevin? Is he with… Riko?” Jean’s voice turned into a careful whisper.

Neil blinked. “Riko?” Apparently, Andrew was not the only one with reality issues.

“You need to get Kevin out. If Riko hears about his father he is going to be so angry. So angry.” Suddenly Jean leapt from the bed and cornered Neil against the door. He was impossibly tall, Neil could barely reach his chest. Neil instantly took his fight position, ready to ram his elbow in Jean’s stomach and bolt. But Jean simply stood there, looming over him, a little unsteady on his feet. “Do you know the song about the man who would rather see his loved one dead than facing whatever cruelty the world has to offer?” he asked all of a sudden. Already ten steps further in his head.

Neil watched him stumbling back to his bed, humming a melody that tugged at something in Neil’s memory. The bare skin he could see on Jean was full of old and new scars. They weren’t as obvious and ugly as Neil’s, at least the older ones. More like pale lines crisscrossing over his arms and legs. His back and his face. The new ones would leave a harsher pattern. Too deep they had been. Too infected.

Without looking back, Neil left the room. He owed Jean his life. He had to pay him back somehow. Had to find a way for him to leave the Capitol behind. He was still trapped inside it, with Riko lurking close. It was evident that Jean had carried the brutal force of Riko’s rage. Seth had been there for answers. Andrew to be broken, and also to break Neil. What had they needed Jean for? Maybe for a few answers, but mainly to be punished. To satisfy Riko’s craving for petty revenge. If he couldn’t get to Kevin or Neil, and if he couldn’t lay hand on Andrew, why not use the next best option?

Neil didn’t care what Andrew thought about revenge. He wanted to kill Riko. To see the life drained from his eyes, to know his family would be safe from him now and forever. Maybe it was revenge, or maybe it was the need to protect. Whatever it was, Riko was his to kill.

Since Andrew would be busy with Abby for a while, Neil decided to hunt the only person down that could get Jean out of his head. That could make him believe that Riko couldn’t reach him anymore.

It took some asking and guessing, but eventually he found Kevin with Laila and Alvarez in a smaller conference room, watching tapes of Renee, Abby, Wymack and Betsy talking about 12. Kevin didn’t even glance up upon Neil’s entrance, but Alvarez stopped the video.

“We need to talk,” Neil said outright.

“If it’s not about you being done being stubborn and finally accepting to do more propos, I don’t think so,” Kevin replied. He was back to his condescending self.

Neil didn’t react to that. “Talk to Jean.”

Kevin’s shoulders tensed and his eyes flickered towards Alvarez and Laila who acted like they weren’t hanging onto every word. He pursed his lips in discontent and stood up. “Follow me.”

As the door closed behind Neil he could hear Alvarez sighing exasperatedly. “Just when it was getting interesting!”

Kevin led Neil into a small corridor that looked like it was hardly used anymore. He stopped there with his arms crossed, glaring at Neil. “What do you want?”

“I already told you. Talk to Jean. He still thinks he’s with Riko, losing touch with reality more and more, babbling nonsense.” Exposing Neil.  _ Nathaniel _ .

“And why exactly do you think I could help him? I’m no doctor.”

“No, but you’re supposed to be his friend,” Neil said. “You already left him behind once knowing what Riko would do to him. Don’t do it again. If you don’t help him now, his death is on you.”

Anger flashed over Kevin’s face, quickly followed by resignation. It irritated Neil. Why was Kevin so fast to duck his head when he was literally making Neil the face of a rebellion he had organized?

“The others already did the hard part. They got him out of there. Renee and Jeremy are trying their best, but you’re the only one he’ll listen to. You outrank him in Riko’s imaginary hierarchy.”

Kevin opened his mouth, closed it again, and looked away. “It’s not that easy.”

“But it is. Just explain it to him. You’re never that shy with your words to anyone else.”

Kevin said nothing for so long Neil thought he was going to refuse. Finally he said, “I’ll do what I can, but I won’t promise anything.”

Neil hadn’t really expected more. He gave Kevin a simple nod before turning around to go back to the hospital. Andrew should almost be done now.

Andrew’s schedule assigned him to a training session with Wymack afterwards, and since someone had caught up on Neil and Andrew doing everything together, Neil joined him. It was a difficult enough task to get Andrew to agree to follow the schedule. Because Andrew wanted his knives back. Whittier and Rhemann both wouldn’t give in to such a request, so Andrew said he wouldn’t do anything unless he got them back. Which in return meant Neil wouldn’t give any inspiring speeches to the rebels in the districts. It had taken a lot of convincing and something to give Andrew in return before Neil had him agreeing to not cause any more trouble in 13. He was worried Whittier and the other authorities would make Andrew’s life even more difficult. They could do it, after all. They were all just little soldiers to be played with.

Another four days passed relatively uneventfully. Andrew decided to eat in the hospital after two days, no longer in the mood to sit with the others. Neil stayed with them, though. He took Erik out for a hunting trip, found the time to go to the shooting range with Matt, Dan and Allison, and caught up with Nicky and Roland. Sometimes, before they went to sleep, Andrew stopped in front of Neil’s bed, took Neil’s hand and allowed him to touch. At first only his hair and face. Later his arms and chest. Until one night, Neil came out of the bathroom to see Andrew lying on Neil’s bed with the cats curled up beside him. Andrew stood up when he noticed him and stopped only centimeters in front of Neil’s face, their bodies lightly touching. Neil felt his heart rate quicken and his eyes flickered towards Andrew’s lips and his hands.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked.

“Yes,” Neil said, breathless.

He was dragged down in a hesitant kiss, a press of lips against lips to test the waters. Neil tried to hold still, his hands clenching around the hem of his shirt until Andrew opened his mouth and Neil could feel his tongue. Andrew’s hands ran from Neil’s shoulder down the length of his arms and grabbed his hands. He pulled back to say, “Only my hair.”

Neil felt light-headed when his fingers found the blond strands, felt them tickling his palms and Andrew’s tongue in his mouth. Andrew turned them around, guided Neil backwards without breaking contact. “Is the bed okay?” he asked Neil. Confused Neil looked around, muddled about what Andrew was talking about. Just now he felt the frame of their bunk pressing against the back of his knees. Andrew’s fingers brushed over the strip of bare skin between Neil’s shirt and waistband. Neil could hardly concentrate long enough to get the “Yes, yes, yes” out.

How Neil had missed it. Being pushed down and taken apart by Andrew. He had recalled their last kiss in the arena so many times he hadn’t been sure anymore what had been real and what he had dreamed. But this was real. And suddenly he remembered every single kiss shared between them and all the times Andrew had touched him. There was no safer place for Neil.

 

“There is an announcement tonight. Ichirou Moriyama himself wants to say something,” Jeremy said at lunch. “You and Andrew coming to Command later?”

It was a badly concealed attempt of luring Andrew into meeting the others. They were all curious to finally come face to face with him. Alvarez had told Neil that she wanted to meet “the myth”, “the legend”, “the man in your life”. It was obvious that they intended to play their relationship in favor of the rebellion. Most likely Kevin’s idea. Since their public kiss in the arena, there was apparently no privacy left. Before Andrew’s rescue everyone had avoided the subject as to not upset Neil. But now the intrusive questions started to come in. Allison didn’t mince her words as usual. She asked Neil a lot of questions which made Aaron leave their table every time. Nicky couldn’t shut up about it either. He was questioning Neil about past relationships for which Neil seriously had no answers. Kevin, once, had bluntly asked for them to kiss on camera. Preferably, after an intense battle and accentuated by some kind of slogan along the lines of “unity” and “they can’t stop us”. Neil had only stared at him wordlessly before walking away.

“Andrew has a check-up tonight. So I don’t think so,” Neil answered. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know what Ichirou had to say. What could be important enough to make the president appear on television, and not Riko who had dealt with the media coverage until recently? Maybe Ichirou had had enough of Riko’s many failures and was taking matters into his own hands.

“Andrew is a big boy,” Dan said with a grin. “Don’t you think he can go alone?”

“I’m sure he can. But I want to go with him.” Neil said without looking up from his plate that was filled with something that could be mashed potatoes.

Allison clicked her tongue. “Ugh, that’s really sweet. Makes the monster look like it has a soul and all.”

Neil’s head shot up and he glared at Allison over the table. “Don’t call him that.” He pushed his plate over to Matt because he was no longer hungry and stood up. “I’ll eat at the hospital tonight. Don’t wait for me.”

When he walked away he heard Nicky behind him stage whisper to Allison, “Now you made him angry.”

 

Until it was time for Andrew to go to the hospital, Neil played with the cats and went to the Collective, the huge room for gatherings which he sometimes used to run laps. Andrew had wandered off somewhere, he did that from time to time. Neil tried not to worry, but he couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that Andrew might get lost in his head, thinking he was back in the Capitol and everything around him was just delusion. There were nights where Neil woke up and saw Andrew standing in front of the door, staring at it as if he couldn’t leave while stroking his bare arms. Neil sent King his way then. The cats were another thing that snapped Andrew back to reality. The soft cat fur was unlike anything he had encountered during his time in captivity.

Andrew found him eventually and watched as he turned another monotonous round. “You look like a hamster in its wheel.”

Neil came to a halt in front of him, wiping a few stray hairs out of his face. “Is it time to go?”

“I don’t need you as my babysitter,” Andrew said.

“No, you don’t,” Neil agreed. “I just like spending time with you.”

Andrew gave him a bored look to which Neil replied with a small smile. Andrew reached out to tug at a strand of Neil’s hair. “Yes or no?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Shut up.” He pulled Neil down in a quick kiss.

The check-up didn’t take long, and afterwards Abby gave them permission to help themselves with the hospital food that was essentially the same as the one served in the cafeteria.

“Where do you usually eat here?” Neil asked as he followed Andrew through the halls with a bowl of steaming hot pumpkin cream soup and a thick slice of bread.

Andrew didn’t answer, but Neil recognized the corridor. It led to Andrew’s old room, so he assumed that was where Andrew found some peace and quiet. But he didn’t stop there. Neil opened his mouth to ask when Andrew walked straight into Jean’s room without knocking.

Jean was sitting on his bed with a tray that held his dinner in front of him. He ripped the bread into small pieces without eating it. To Neil’s absolute bewilderment Seth was also there, watching Jean with a visible sneer on his face. He turned around when he heard them entering and gave Neil and Andrew a disgusted glare. “Oh look, Minyard brought another trauma case, Moreau. Now we can start our support group.”

“You eat with them?” Neil asked. He couldn’t quite believe Andrew preferred their company over that of his cousin or brother, no matter how annoying he thought them to be. And he had seen Roland and Andrew exchanging a few words on several occasions, so there was at least not complete indifference on Andrew’s side.

Andrew only shrugged as an answer and settled on the second, empty bed, leaving room for Neil to join him. Seth laughed sharply at Neil’s question. “Your psycho boyfriend can’t eat if he doesn’t hear me or Moreau scream, you know. Force of habit. We weren’t in for the special treatment like him. Once a day to be lead from the cell by the good doctor, right Minyard?”

Seth’s provocations fell on deaf ears. Andrew simply didn’t react, his eyes fixated on the television screen that showed the usual Capitol feed. It was almost time for Ichirou’s announcement.

Jean was done with his bread and appeared to be eating his soup in a normal way. Seth watched TV, slowly eating his dinner, and Andrew stole pieces from Neil’s bread. The three of them had spent weeks together, seeing the others go through unspeakable things, trapped with the knowledge that a similar fate awaited them. And now they had to somehow live with it. Neil was sure Andrew couldn’t even stand Seth. Jean he tolerated if only barely. And yet he ate with them several times a day, probably in complete silence. Maybe they found comfort in it. Maybe they simply didn’t want anyone asking them questions.

The Capitol seal appeared on screen as the anthem resounded. Ichirou Moriyama stood behind a white podium, black suit and sharp eyes, and in front of a projected map of Panem. Neil remembered his calm and collected demeanor when he had invaded his home in 12. And he still wore this calculated expression on his face while a war was fought right in front of his front door. He couldn’t be any more different from his brother.

Ichirou greeted the nation, talked about some victories, some losses and the rebel’s weak morale. How they preached to rally behind a boy who had no idea what he was doing. A boy whose sole will to survive was his driving force, no matter the cost. A picture of Neil was shown, an older one. His face bloody, his eyes eerily blue, looking feral as he grinned at Raven Girl. “You follow blindly like sheep,” Ichirou said in his clinical tone. “Without even knowing who you let inside your walls.”

Neil’s ears started to ring when Ichirou stepped back and someone else took the stage. Somewhere in his mind Neil had known this would happen. It was the next logical step to undermine his credibility and open a rift in the rebel force. Why was he so surprised? Why had he ever felt safe? Andrew’s return had clouded his head. His mother’s voice was hissing in his ear, cursing his stupidity. A fist to his temple, fingers yanking at his hair.  _ It’s dangerous! Never do this again! If you tell them anything you are dead! _

Nathan Wesninski hadn’t changed at all in eight years. He was still as broad and strong as Neil remembered. A man that had no difficulties ripping out a tongue with his bare hands. He looked directly into the camera, giving the people a smile. Someone groaned, a low sound that reminded Neil of a dying animal. Dying human. Raven Girl groaning with a hole in her chest. Gorilla begging to be released. Only belatedly Neil realized it was him who was making these sounds. He couldn’t look away from the screen, trapped under his father’s gaze. The noise in Neil’s ears was so loud he couldn’t hear what was said. His father moved his lips, parts of the map lit up and pictures of districts were shown.

Neil’s world focused in and out, made him hear the voice of his father for a second before the buzz drowned it out. His name wasn’t Neil Josten. His home wasn’t District 12. Who was he? Where was his home? The world cleared once again and this time Neil could follow every word his father said.

“Let me use this chance to reach out to my son. I thought him gone, until I saw him only a year ago on television. Alive and well. Nathaniel, I am awaiting your return. Don’t let these rebels use you. You are not their symbol of destruction and senseless killing. You are my son and your place is by my side, in the Capitol. You may call yourself Neil now, but that’s what they did to you. Stole your identity, turned you into their puppet. End this now.”

There was more, but suddenly the screen went black and someone grabbed him from behind. Panicked, Neil tried to lash out, but his wrists were caught by a familiar pair of hands. “Calm down, Abram.”

It was Andrew, of course it was Andrew. Neil stared at Seth who was sitting in front of him, the only one in Neil’s direct line of sight. And then suddenly Seth laughed. “Oh fuck, this is rich. I can’t believe this! We got the devil’s little offspring here!”

“Shut the fuck up, Gordon,” Jean hissed. He had gotten up and moved to the door to have a quick look outside. His blue eyes were clear, gone was the man who hummed creepy melodies and tied knots like his life depended on it. “They’re already here.”

Andrew was up in an instant, pulling Neil to his feet in the process. “Andrew,” Neil said, but Andrew pressed a hand over his mouth. Seth was still laughing. Jean closed the door again. “We didn’t see anything,” he said forcefully. “We don’t know anything. We turned the TV off because I couldn’t bare seeing President Moriyama. Got it?”

By walking backwards, Andrew pushed Neil to the wall. With his back pressed against a hard surface and Andrew right in front of him, Neil could pull himself together enough to not bolt in the next second.  _ Don’t run. Stay. _

The door was torn open. Two armed soldiers entered. They didn’t outright aim their guns at Neil and Andrew but they certainly weren’t there for a chat either. Andrew took a slight fighting stance, pushing Neil with one hand back when he tried to get past him.

“They have guns, Andrew,” Neil whispered irritated. “It’s not like you could knock them both out. So let’s get this over with.”

“Shut up,” Andrew said.

“Andrew—” But Andrew only tightened his grip on Neil’s shirt, keeping himself between the two soldiers and Neil. The moment of panic upon seeing his father, the revelation of who he was on live television and the fear of everyone knowing about his heritage ebbed away. There was really only one person that could terrify Neil and since he was unreachable for Nathan Wesninski, now more than ever, he felt calm. His legs still itched to take off in the opposite direction, though. Wanting to leave the fighting to someone else.

“Don’t run,” Neil muttered to himself. Andrew edged closer.

The sound of multiple boots heading towards them could be heard from the corridor. Rhemann was the first to rush in the room, closely followed by Wymack and Abby. There was this moment of tense silence as each side regarded each other.

“I take it you saw the announcement,” Rhemann said finally. No one answered, but apparently that was answer enough. Rhemann took a step forward but instantly stilled when Andrew lifted a hand in warning. “Touch him and I’ll rip your throat out.” If it weren’t for the tense set of Andrew’s shoulders, Neil would think this whole affair mattered to Andrew as much as the dirt beneath his feet.

“Soldier—” Rhemann began sternly, but stopped when Wymack placed a hand on his shoulder. They exchanged a look, and Wymack spoke up. “Is it true?”

So he still granted Neil the benefit of the doubt. Now, Neil felt really guilty. He had lied and betrayed his family. The people who had protected and believed in him. Andrew’s hand was still pressed against his chest to keep him back.

“Yes,” Neil said finally. Why deny what could be easily proved? Not only did he look like his father, Kevin and Jean could confirm it. And a DNA check wasn’t unthinkable either.

It was awful to see the way Abby’s face fell. She had really believed it was a lie. Wymack’s expression didn’t change, he simply nodded and turned his attention to Andrew. “Did you know?”

Andrew didn’t answer right away. He studied Wymack warily. Then his eyes flickered to Rhemann and the two soldiers. He straightened himself eventually and said in a flat voice, “Of course I knew.”

Wymack sighed while Rhemann touched his temples with his thumb and ring finger as if to ward off a headache. It only lasted for a moment, then Rhemann turned into a military commander of District 13. His features smoothed out and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. “Soldier Neil—” He hesitated, but continued in the next second. “Soldier Neil Josten and Soldier Andrew Minyard. You are both under the strong suspicion of treason. Until proven otherwise you are under arrest.” He turned to face the two soldiers. “Escort them to their cell.”

“Don’t do this!” Abby called out, making a step forward to intervene. Wymack held her back, though, which earned him a vicious glare.

“It’s okay,” Neil said softly. “This was to be expected, right?” He tapped Andrew’s hand to signal him to let go. And Andrew did. As Neil moved around him to stand by his side he considered the two soldiers with a cool look. They made an attempt to grab Neil’s and Andrew’s arms, but Neil kept them away with a harsh jerk of his hand. In his best Wesninski manner he said, “Touch Andrew or me and I will kill you. Don’t think I wouldn’t.” Something in his voice made the soldiers turn around to Rhemann to await further instructions. Rhemann shook his head in evident annoyance. “Remove them from my sight.”

Neil walked through the door without so much as looking at the people staring after him. His head was empty except for a voice that told him to keep his head up and do what he was told for now. Wait. Watch. Run. Andrew walked next to him, unbothered by the machine guns trained on them as they were escorted to the elevator. They boarded and one of their guards pulled a key attached to a thin chain from under his shirt to insert it into a slot.

The other guard pressed a button marked  _ 39 _ , and they descended another twenty levels or so. The doors opened on a wide white corridor lined with red doors, which almost looked decorative compared to all the gray ones Neil had seen until now. Each was plainly marked with a number. 3901, 3902, 3903 …

As they stepped out, Neil glanced behind himself to watch the elevator close and saw a metallic grate slide into place over the regular doors. When he turned, another guard had materialized from one of the rooms at the far end of the corridor. A door swung silently shut behind her as she strode towards them.

As the guards ushered them to move, Neil couldn’t help the feeling of wrongness that overcame him. The claustrophobia of being so far down and the smell of antiseptic in the air made his skin crawl, he wanted to get out. To run away. The reinforced elevator would keep him down here, though. From his peripheral vision he noticed Andrew clenching and unclenching his left hand. Clench and unclench. Clench and unclench.

“Josten and Minyard,” the guard right of Neil said to the woman who greeted them. She nodded and pointed to a door marked  _ 3908 _ .

“Together?” asked the left guard.

“Direct order of President Whittier,” the woman said.

There were no knobs or handles attached to the doors. They must swing free on hinges like the one the woman had appeared through.

And indeed, Neil and Andrew were practically pushed through the red door before it fell shut behind them. Something made a final click and they stood in complete darkness for a moment, until the room was suddenly flooded in a bright light that forced Neil to close his eyes.

When he could see again he found himself in a moderately sized, white tiled room. There was nothing else except a drain in the middle of it. Neil’s stomach contracted when he thought of why the room would need a drain. The stains of human misery that must have been hosed off these walls…

“Interesting,” Andrew said from where he stood, staring at the red door that couldn’t be opened. “To think that Riko offered more hospitality than our great lords and savors of District 13.”

“Andrew—” Neil started, his voice rough with guilt and grief. To put Andrew back in this kind of situation, after he had made such progress in the last few days.

“If it’s not useful, I don’t want to hear it, Josten. And watch what you’re saying, they’re watching us,” Andrew cut in. He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to a camera that had been installed in the far left corner, right under the ceiling. “They probably think we’re going to talk about your daddy issues and how you just want his approval, so you went undercover to spy for him.”

The thought alone made Neil nauseous. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to sit on the floor, legs pulled to his chest. After a moment Andrew mirrored him on the opposite wall. He tilted his head and gave Neil a scrutinizing look. “You ever wonder if Panem’s problem lies within the parents? For some reason I can’t think of any good parental figures off the top of my head.”

Neil couldn’t help the snort that was half amusement, half hysteria. Well, things could still be worse. For example his father could march through this door now, or Riko. “I guess Matt’s mom was alright,” he said to think about something else besides his father announcing he had had some part in Neil’s making. In Nathaniel’s making. Then he remembered Andrew had never met her. Which, apparently, didn’t stop him from having an opinion.

“Sure, she at least didn’t use him as a punching bag or slicing dummy like some other people. Didn’t stop her sweet son from getting addicted, though.”

“My mother didn’t use me as a punching bag,” Neil said hotly. Feeling somehow obligated to defend her. She had died for him, after all. In an attempt to give him a chance to survive.

Andrew’s gaze that had wandered to the red door darted back to Neil. “I did not talk about your mother,” he said. Neil bit his lip when he realized his mistake. Andrew had referred to Aaron.

Silence settled between them, and after a minute or so, Neil’s legs started to itch. A nervous rhythm took hold of his fingers and he started to tap them against his knee. He hated this uncertainty. Would they kill him? Would they torture him to get information about his father? Was there any way for them to escape? Unlikely. He was already losing his sense of time in this white room with the harsh light. No bed, no blanket, not even a toilet.

Andrew was perfectly still across from him. He stared through the tiles above Neil’s left shoulder, somewhere else in his head. Neil stood up which instantly gave him Andrew’s attention. “Can I sit close to you?”

Andrew inclined his head slightly. Neil let out a relieved sigh and crossed over to settle down beside him. They weren’t touching but it was a close thing. There was nothing to talk about.

Neil started to see bloody spots dancing around on the walls and the floor, and he was certain the red of the door had spread out. A splatter of red on white tiles. Andrew’s mad laugh stopping abruptly. How much time had passed? Why was no one coming for them?

“Your favorite color is gray,” Andrew said without warning.

“Yes,” Neil said and held his hand towards Andrew.

Andrew looked at it for a moment before he took it in his own and started to explore the rough skin with the tips of his fingers. Reassuring himself that Neil was real.

This only lasted until there was a click and the door opened. A guard stood there, pointing his gun at Neil and Andrew who both didn’t even turn their heads to acknowledge him. Someone entered and the door was closed again. It took some time for Neil to muster up the will to find out who their visitor was. He was so tired and weary of the games played around him.

Leaning against the door stood a stiff Kevin. He was staring at Neil, his green eyes appearing unnatural bright under the white light of the cell. “You’re not really him,” he said, so low Neil barely understood his words. “Tell me you aren’t really Nathaniel.”

Neil couldn’t quite prevent the flinch at the sound of his real name. “Don’t call me that. My name is Neil.”

“It’s not that simple,” Kevin said, louder and dismayed. “They told us you and your mother died.  _ I _ thought you were dead! Why did you leave?”

Neil found the strength to get to his feet. Kevin didn’t move away when Neil came closer. “Are you serious? Are you really asking me right now why I left?” He spread his arms out as he could show Kevin the reason in this cell. “You’ve met my father.”

Three boys. A screaming man, cut into pieces with a cleaver. Scream. Hack. Scream. Hack. The smell of blood in the air that settled on tongues, made them taste metal and salt.

Kevin looked like he was going to be sick. “How could no one remember you?”

“Riko did. Right after the Games. I don’t know why Ichirou didn’t catch up on it sooner. Or my father. And you’ve been always great at closing your eyes to inconvenient truths.”

Kevin scrubbed fiercely at his face and muttered something in a hoarse voice, impossible for Neil to understand. “I bet it was Riko. He wanted to keep you to himself. Maybe he even manipulated your background so his brother wouldn’t find out about you. He wanted to use you to gain his father’s favor.”

Neil shrugged. “What are you going to do now? Use me as bait? Because I can assure you, my father would just slit my throat if he could. I guess, since I’ve lost my worth now, you’ll kill me and present it as a tragic martyr’s death. Call the Butcher a liar and rally the rebels behind you.”

Kevin looked uncomfortable enough to reveal that at least some of it was true. Behind him Neil heard Andrew approach. There was a quick touch to his lower back, intending to ground Neil.

Kevin’s eyes flickered from Andrew to Neil. “I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s not my problem,” Neil said. “But you either believe me or you don’t. Do whatever you want, Kevin. I don’t care. But Andrew has nothing to do with it. When I told him about me I thought we would both die in your arena. Or at least one of us. No need to kill him just because he didn’t tell you. He owes your people nothing.”

Neil felt a pinch at his hip and recoiled, a protest on his lips.

“Please spare us your sacrificing complex, fox boy. I can only deal with so many issues a day. And daddy the Butcher is enough for now,” Andrew cut him off and pinched him once more, this time in the arm.

Neil glared at him, rubbing over the sore spots. “You’re the one who always throws himself in the line of fire.”

“That’s because I can actually walk down a flight of stairs without breaking my neck,” Andrew said nonchalantly. “Also, you have this talent where you piss off every person in a ten kilometer radius.”

Neil pressed his lips together, annoyed that Andrew was not exactly wrong but also not exactly right.

“I’ll talk to Whittier,” Kevin said from his place at door. “But I can’t promise you anything.”

“Of course you can’t,” Neil shot back. Kevin never could promise anything.

As if on cue the door swung open and the guard appeared to take Kevin with him. A span of several minutes passed in which Neil returned to his original place, next to Andrew, and let his head grow heavy until he felt Andrew’s shoulder against his cheek. He wanted to sit up, but then there was Andrew’s hand in his hair, pushing him back down.

“Yes or no?” Neil mumbled.

After a short pause Andrew replied, “Yes.”

Neil smiled sleepily as he tilted his head to press his lips against Andrew’s neck, softly caressing the sensitive skin. The fingers in Neil’s hair tightened and Neil felt the shiver running through Andrew’s body.

“Your neck fetish is not attractive,” Andrew growled, but didn’t tell him to stop.

“You like it,” Neil said with a growing smile. “And I like that you like it.” He pressed another kiss right over Andrew’s pulse. Suddenly the door opened. Two sets of pillows and blankets were tossed wordlessly into the cell. Neil had barely been able to scramble away from Andrew when the door had already been closed again.

“Could be worse,” Neil said as he went to pick up the bedding. They could be separated. Or alone to begin with.

Andrew scoffed. “Right.”

 

The next day started with a bowl of rice and a foul taste in Neil’s mouth. Since there wasn’t anything better to do, Andrew started to do push-ups while Neil decided to stretch his body thoroughly. He had gotten a little stiff but soon found his old flexibility. Even though Andrew had lost quite some weight and muscle mass he still managed to do an impressive number of push-ups.

“You want to bench-press me next?” Neil asked jokingly.

“That’d hardly be a challenge,” Andrew said.

Neil narrowed his eyes while Andrew’s lips twitched. However, before they could settle an argument, the door was pushed open. This time it was no guard that greeted them, or Kevin. Charles Whittier stood there in his gray uniform, examining the two of them expressionlessly. He nodded towards Neil. “Soldier Josten, I’d like to talk to you in private.” With a wave he gestured for Neil to follow him.

When he noticed Andrew coming along as well, Whittier stopped. “Only Soldier Josten.”

“That won’t happen,” Neil said coolly.

“Then you’ll both return to your cell,” Whittier told him.

“Fine.” Neil turned around to go back. He’d rather rot with Andrew together in this prison before leaving him behind, all alone in a place that was apparently worse than where Riko had held him captive. He only made it three meters when Whittier called him back. “You’re very stubborn, soldier. You both may come.”

They were led into a room that contained a table with six chairs and nothing else. Whittier sat down on the middle chair at the long side of the table and gestured for Neil and Andrew to take a seat across from him. Neil didn’t like that his back was to the door, but he didn’t have much of a choice without causing unnecessary trouble. Which was, in fact, his specialty.

“Before we begin,” Whittier said, folding his hands in front of him, “how should I address you? Nathaniel Wesninski or Neil Josten? Any other names?” He didn’t sound mocking, he simply asked in this District 13 way of bluntness. No time for jokes or sarcasm.

“Nathaniel died nine years ago. My name is Neil.”

“Good. Now that we’ve clarified that, there are still some problems you left us with.” He leaned forward on his chair as he spoke. “The majority of us believe that you do not work for your father or Ichirou Moriyama. Jean Moreau guaranteed us proof, so did Kevin Day and David Wymack, along with a few other people. I am inclined to agree with them.

“Nonetheless, the damage is done. People don’t know what to do and how to react to the news. We haven’t confirmed nor denied anything, yet. The rebels are losing their morale which is to the Butcher’s advantage. He returned to District 2 last night and the rebels are losing their grip. So, here is what is going to happen. We’ll release a statement that confirms what your father has said. We can’t allow to be caught lying now, and there is no reason to do so. Because you will return to District 12 with your team and shoot a propo where you talk about your father. About your reasons to run away. About your mother. And why you chose to be with the rebellion. You will make the people believe that you’re on their side. You will convince  _ me _ .”

Neil felt like he had come full circle. Almost a year ago he had found himself in the exact same position. Only that Ichirou Moriyama had warned him to change the people’s minds or someone would die. Whittier’s threat was not as obvious, but somehow Neil doubted a No would be accepted without consequences. And really, what choice did he have?

Neil looked over to Andrew and thought about laying bare his past. Everything he had lied about out in the open for everyone to dissect and see. Every scar put in the spotlight, every bruise to be leered at. To go against everything his mother had ever taught him.

Neil turned back to Whittier and held his gaze. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Whittier nodded. “You’ll be released from custody. But until you’re done with the propo, two guards will be assigned to watch over you and… your partner.”

Neil swallowed down his anger. He had to chew his lip to stop himself from lashing out. Not only would the district’s full impact of distrust hit them every step they took from now on, they would also look like criminals. Traitors. Not that Neil cared much, but he knew how it was to live in a hostile environment.

And should he fail in convincing the rebels, Neil was sure Whittier would finally get rid of him. Because District 13 did not waste anything. Words, food, paper, space. And if Neil couldn’t perform what did they need him for? And without Neil, what did they need Andrew for?

Not only would Neil live among people that probably wanted him dead, he was back to the itch that had accompanied him throughout his time on the run. The urge to look over his shoulder, to sleep with a gun hidden under his pillow. The fear for his life. And, more importantly, the fear for Andrew’s life.

Nothing really had changed. Except now Neil had so many more lives to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what that was, honestly.  
> Also notice how I said it was time for some healing... and now look what I've done. Again. The whole reveal of Neil's identity was completely different in my head btw. But when I thought about future chapters and what I am planning to do I had to find a different solution which led to lots of stuff being deleted etc. What I want to say is that I am a mess.  
> Additionally, I fell asleep several times while writing this chapter. Bored by my own words hahaha


	24. Circles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which Neil is doing three of his favorite things: thinking about smooching Andrew, actually smooching Andrew and causing trouble.

As announced, Neil and Andrew were escorted back to their quarters by two guards. This time the stares varied from mild curiosity to downright hostility. The guards prevented the exchange of words, be it between Neil and Andrew or Neil and any passerby who coughed an insult in their direction. Neil saw Nicky and Aaron from afar, standing in front of their compartment and awaiting their return. With them were Matt and Dan. One of the guards barked at them to go back to work which no one really listened to. Matt tried to say something, but the gun shoved in his face was enough reason to step back. Neil tried to give them an apologetic look, but he was already being ushered down the hall. When they finally reached Compartment 2227, the guards took up position in front of the door to make sure they couldn’t leave unseen.

“I feel like I am eight again,” Neil muttered, rubbing over the scars on his chest. His father had liked to exercise control over Neil and his mother twenty-four-seven. They had hardly been able to move around in the house without at least one pair of eyes following them.

Andrew only gave him a flat look and said, “I’ll take a shower.”

That was also what Neil planned on doing next; he still had his schedule from yesterday printed on his forearm, and he felt like his body was itching from the night in the cell. He watched Andrew gather some fresh clothes, nudging King away who brushed against his legs, rubbing her head against his pants. It wasn’t lost on Neil that Andrew didn’t lock the door when he vanished inside the bathroom.

They would fly out to 12 tomorrow morning, along with Neil’s propo team, Wymack, Kevin and the TV crew. Until then they were only allowed to leave their quarters to eat (dinner, since they missed breakfast and lunch) and another training session with Wymack afterwards.

Neil lay down on the floor, arms outstretched, and stared at the yellow lighting of the ceiling lamp. The cold of the concrete floor slowly seeped through his clothing, but soon the cats joined him and settled on his chest.

“Are you pulling another Kevin Day?” Andrew suddenly asked from above him, poking Neil’s side with his foot.

Neil swiped at it with his hand, but Andrew was faster and evaded a hit easily. This time he went for Neil’s cheek with his finger as he crouched down. His hair was still dripping and a few droplets hit Neil on the forehead.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Neil said. He wiped the water off his face only for Andrew to shake his head, spraying him with more water.

“You were so mouthy with the good president and now you have your usual afternoon breakdown while lying on the floor and mulling over your boring life choices. Classic Kevin Day.” Andrew walked over to the dresser to put on some socks and the orange-green sweater he usually slept with. Neil pushed himself up to his elbows and followed Andrew with his eyes around the room. “I had no idea you were so chummy with Kevin.”

Andrew didn’t answer. He threw himself on Neil’s bed with a book he had gotten from Aaron and pointedly opened it to signal that the conversation was over. With an eye-roll Neil got to his feet, picked up King to place her on Andrew’s back which earned him a displeased growl.

Neil took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and returned to the room. He hadn’t slept well in the cell, drifting in and out of it, which left him now tired and cranky. “Move over,” he told Andrew who was still lying on his stomach with the book resting on the pillow. He didn’t even glance up when he made room for Neil to slip under the covers. Neil turned on his side, so he could watch Andrew, ignoring that he was soaking his pillow with his wet hair. He closed his eyes and listened to the occasional rustling when Andrew turned a page.

“I want to take a turn,” Andrew said after a while. Neil had been dozing off without really falling asleep and opened his eyes slowly. He blinked a few times before Andrew came into focus next to him, book closed and his gaze trained on Neil.

“Isn’t it my turn, though?” Neil asked. He yawned but still managed to turn the corners of his mouth up impishly.

Andrew seemed to be considering that, probably trying to remember the back and forth of their truth game. He came to a conclusion eventually. “Ask.”

Since he was still a little sleep muddled and hadn’t really thought about anything to ask Andrew in a while now, Neil burrowed his face a little deeper in the damp pillow and pondered his possibilities.

“Okay,” he said after a few minutes of silence. He peeked up to Andrew who was studying him with a bored expression. “Why are you eating with Jean and Seth?”

Andrew tilted his head. He lifted a finger and poked Neil’s cheek a few times until Neil was fed up with it and swatted his hand away. “Gordon already told you. You really wasted your question like that?”

With a frown Neil shook his head slightly. “It’s hard to imagine you sit there and scream at each other only to eat. I mean, you also ate with the others.”

Tired of keeping his head upright and straining his neck in order to keep eye contact with Neil, Andrew settled down beside him so they were laying face to face, both on their sides. “It’s more like they don’t ask stupid questions. Nicky doesn’t know when to shut up. And your friends are too nosy for their own good.”

Neil accepted that with a simple, “Okay.” He bit his lower lip and indulged in the way Andrew’s eyes lingered there for a moment before they fixated Neil with an unfazed look. “Smooth, Josten.”

“When it works, it is,” Neil replied. “So what do you want to ask?”

“Did your mother beat you?”

The light mood between them evaporated like a drop on a hot stone. Neil tried to hold Andrew’s gaze but had to look away to find the words that came out defensive, bordering on hostile. “I was stupid and didn’t learn fast enough. How else could she have made me understand? I only lived so long because of her.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Andrew said. He was perfectly still. His voice so blank it was almost cutting.

Neil pulled the blanket over his nose, but Andrew stopped him and pulled it back down. Neil had never questioned his mother’s methods before. So he didn’t know why he was trying to explain her actions to Andrew now. Maybe because he knew Andrew would compare her to Tilda which was of course not the same at all. “She had to. Her survival as well as mine depended on it.”

“I’m sure it relieved some of her survival stress, beating the shit out of you,” Andrew said snidely.

“It was necessary,” Neil shot back.

For a moment they just stared at each other, both convinced they were right. They also knew they were too stubborn right now to make any progress, so they let the topic drop. Neil chewed on his lip until Andrew put his thumb on it and asked, “Yes or no?”

Minutes, hours, days could have passed in which Neil felt nothing but the demanding press of Andrew’s lips, the hot hands under his shirt, mapping out the scars on his torso. Sometimes one or two of Andrew’s fingers slipped past Neil’s waistband while he clung to Andrew’s hair. When he was fast enough he sneaked a kiss or bite in the crook of Andrew’s neck. Neil knew Andrew liked it. And the thought, mixed with the pleasant sensations on his skin made Neil moan.

Too soon it was time for dinner. Andrew rolled from Neil and stood up to adjust his rumpled appearance. With a rise of glee Neil noticed the red over Andrew’s cheeks, ears and throat. He followed him a moment later, listening to the growling of his stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything all day except for the bowl of rice in the morning. Neil was already on his way to the door when Andrew snatched him back and fixed Neil’s hair and smoothed down the front of his shirt.

Their guards led them to the cafeteria where they took their position at the entrance. It was surreal how conversations died down when they walked in, people stared at them and a few even went out of their way as if they were contagious. Andrew seemed unbothered by the antagonistic behavior directed towards him. He took his food and waited for Neil to do the same.

Neil spotted the others almost immediately. Everyone, even Kevin, sat around their usual table and looked his way. That was the confrontation he feared the most. He had no idea how to react. Should he go over and explain? Did they even want an explanation from him? Let alone talk to him?

It was Matt who took the decision from Neil in the end. He raised his hand to wave Neil over with a smile. Neil’s heart took a leap in his chest and the relief that flooded him made him dizzy. He took a step and another and found himself squeezed between Matt and Andrew the next moment.

“It’s good to have you back, man,” Matt said and gave Neil a bright grin. There was no strain to it, no caution.

Dan snorted. “He was gone for like one night, babe.”

“Duh. The worst night of my life,” Matt replied and laughed at the playful punch he received from Dan. Nicky and Erik joined in the laughter and Renee offered Andrew and Neil a warm smile.

Aaron slammed his fork down on the table so everyone went silent and turned their attention to him. “Are we seriously acting like Neil didn’t lie to us and put everyone at risk here and in 12?” He ignored the glares from the others as he focused on Neil and his brother. “Not only did you force us into this rebellion by provoking the Moriyamas time after time, you’re also responsible for the destruction of 12 and the death of those people. And for what? Because you were bored of your life in the Capitol as the privileged son of the Butcher? Did he not love you enough because he was too busy starving and punishing the districts?”

It was so quiet suddenly that Neil could hear the district work. The machines in the distance, the opening and closing of elevator doors, steps in the hallway right in front of the cafeteria. The whole room was staring at their table, obviously listening. Only the clatter of Andrew’s cutlery on his plate could be heard. He picked up a few mushrooms to put them on Neil’s plate and stole a few tomatoes in return.

“Aaron,” Nicky said wearily. “Don’t do this now.”

Aaron’s eyes were ablaze with anger when he shifted his attention to Nicky. Katelyn reached out to touch his arm gently. “It’s okay, Aaron,” she whispered. Aaron ground his teeth and his jaw was working in the attempt to not lash out. “It’s not okay,” he hissed eventually, but with a lot less heat.

“We don’t know the full story,” Matt said and put his hand on Neil’s shoulder. “And I believe him. Whatever his reasons are.”

“He still lied to us,” Allison interjected. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips as she took in Neil and then Andrew. “I’m ready for the truth any time now. Also what I’d like to know is why you told the monster and not us. He might be good in bed or whatever, but we are your friends, Neil. And you fed us that District 8 bullshit for over a year. Fuck that.”

She was honestly pissed, and when Neil looked around he could see varying degrees of hurt on the other’s faces. Aaron bored holes sullenly in Andrew’s unfazed figure while Matt, Dan and Nicky tried to be supportive but apparently had been wondering about his reasons to lie to them, too. Kevin was very busy with his food, while Katelyn and Erik were somewhat part of the group but didn’t have as much of a connection to Neil as the others. Renee was the only one who understood enough and didn’t demand answers.

Neil bit his lip, glanced around and said, “I’ll tell you everything. Just not here.”

The residents around them had resumed eating but it was still oddly quiet for a room that usually droned with the conversations and noises of several hundred people.

“Fine. We can use the Remake Room then. After dinner,” Allison told him and threw her long hair over her shoulder. “No more excuses.”

“Yeah, well, tell that our watchdogs, would you?” Neil shot back. He didn’t mean to be so snappish but he had never responded well to orders and demands.

Allison huffed. “I’m sure our great rebellion organizer can get you down there.”

Kevin didn’t look overly happy about it, but he was probably curious enough to make it happen. As it was, it was the best preparation Neil could get before tomorrow. Maybe it would be easier to tell a whole country his deepest secrets if he shared them with the people closest to him first. He started to nervously chew on his lip again before he felt Andrew’s hand pressing down on his knee. Neil glanced over to him and had to stifle the smile that threatened to rise on his face. An eyebrow raised in warning. For Neil it looked like a promise for later.

 

Kevin was the last to sit down. With the door closed – to keep the guards out – the Remake Room became quite… cozy. When it had been only him and Roland, and sometimes Allison, Neil had thought the room spacious enough to hold a small group of people. But with them all sitting on the floor, the desk and on boxes, it resembled more a storeroom.

Neil shared a box with Andrew, facing the others who were gathered around him. There was some shifting and shoving before everyone finally settled down and Neil was the center of attention again.

Neil looked around the room at them and said uncertainly, “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about the beginning?” Dan suggested.

They weren’t really interested in his father nor his mother, and more in Neil himself. Neil still told them who his parents were both officially and in reality. He explained his relationship to Riko and Kevin which made Nicky interrupt him to ask Kevin if he seriously hadn’t recognized Neil all this time. Kevin sulked a little at the disbelieving reactions of the others. Neil continued with his mother’s abrupt decision to run away, the terrible eight years on the run, and the confrontation that had ended with his mother’s death. He told them how he had ended up in District 12 and his certainty that he would die after his name had been drawn during the Reaping.

He told them his reasons for sharing his secrets with Andrew. How he had been sure one of them wouldn’t make it out of the arena, so why not say the truth for once in his life? He also mentioned that Andrew had found out about his father on his own.

They listened to it all without further interruption and sat in silence for a long time afterward. The eventual questions were inevitable, and Neil answered everything they asked him. They seemed startled at first by the honesty, no matter the story that had come before it, and were emboldened by his unhesitating responses.

Allison was the first to go for it. “So, are we supposed to call you Nathaniel from now on?”

“It’s Neil. I am Neil.” He hoped no one would ever call him Nathaniel ever again. It was an unrealistic wish to have, but he would never stop  _ being _ Neil. The others accepted this without question.

“What would have happened if your father had recognized you before you entered the arena? Like, he couldn’t just kill you, right?” Dan asked.

Neil shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past him. My father doesn’t care much about the Games or his public image. That makes him so effective against riotous districts.”

“You went to 8 with the knowledge he could be waiting there for you?” Matt looked so worried, Neil felt a pang of guilt. A feeling he was still getting used to, even if it surfaced a lot more often since he had met Andrew. But it didn’t make him change the firm belief he had made the right decision. “Of course I did. I had no other choice if I wanted to convince 13 to get Andrew, Jean and Seth out of the Capitol. I mean I would have traded myself if I would have had the chance.”

The angry outcries of protest by the others took Neil aback. He blinked a few times in bewilderment as several voices overlapped in insults and warnings to not do anything stupid. He felt a pinch in his side and shot Andrew a glare which earned him an unimpressed look in return. “Idiot,” he mouthed.

After a few moments everyone had calmed down enough to continue the questioning. Renee said nothing until everyone else’s curiosity had been temporarily assuaged, then offered Neil a warm smile and said, “What do you need from us, Neil?”

It didn’t take much thought. “Everything I needed, you already gave me. I think I found my home.”

Dan and Matt both got up to give Neil a careful hug. It wasn’t supposed to be comforting, there was a muted ferocity in the fingers that bit into his arms and he could feel the tension in their bodies where they leaned against him. It felt protective and defiant.

“You make it really hard to stay mad at you,” Allison said dismissively, but gave him a fierce grin. She took Renee’s hand and pressed a kiss on the knuckles. “Kind of want to punch your father now, though.”

“Get in line, Reynolds,” Dan said with a wink to Neil. With a glance to the clock she sighed. “I guess we should get back to work now.”

They slowly made their way out of the room, the mood lighter, more relaxed. Neil felt like a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Their acceptance, albeit some more hesitant than others, made him feel at peace.

“Thanks for your honesty, Neil,” Nicky said to him on the way to their floor. Aaron wasn’t with them since he had to go to the hospital, so it was only Andrew, Neil, Nicky and the guards.

“Thanks for accepting it,” Neil replied. At Nicky’s big grin he couldn’t help but give him a small smile in return. They parted ways and Andrew and Neil fetched their training stuff to meet Wymack in the gym. He greeted them in his usual grumpy manner and instructed them to warm up. Neil waited for him to lose patience or get angry, maybe to distance himself from them. But Wymack didn’t act any different from usual.

At the end he told them they would meet tomorrow around the same time. But before he turned to leave he looked Neil in the eyes and said, “I won’t pry into your personal business, Neil. Although, after tomorrow it’ll be hard to not know about your story. Just be sure you know what you’re doing, okay?”

Neil nodded. “Okay.”

“I feel very encouraged, Coach,” Andrew chimed in.

“Fuck off, both of you. You are pests and made me age several years in the past months.”

When Neil was lying in bed that night, he realized he felt somewhat content. Happy. Or at least something akin to it. It was a dangerous thing to allow, it was crushed just as easily as hope. It should be disquieting. It should make him nervous and afraid. Because those feelings had never done him any good. He knew he should be expecting the next disaster to happen. But as he recalled the feeling of Andrew pushing him down in the mattress, Matt’s and Dan’s hug and the other’s acceptance, he couldn’t bring himself to deny it. At least he wouldn’t die as no one. He would die as Neil Josten. Nineteen years old. His home wasn’t District 12 but all the people close to him. That had let him stay.

 

The next morning brought Neil and Andrew to Roland who would dress them up for their trip to District 12.

“You are not doing that partner look thing again,” Neil said instantly upon his arrival in Remake.

Roland raised an eyebrow. “But you are partners, right? And as we saw in more than one way.” His tone was delighted for some reason and he winked at Andrew conspiratorially.

“Shut up,” Andrew said flatly.

“There was a time where I would have said ‘Make me’, but I guess that is over. You two are pretty serious, aren’t you?” For some reason he was looking at Neil when he said that. Since he and Andrew still hadn’t put a name on their… thing, Neil turned away without answering and went to look at his costume.

Fortunately, Andrew wore another one of those District 13 military uniforms in all black. The only individual touch was his flame armbands that matched the ones Renee had given to Neil.

Rhemann escorted them down to the Hangar, but they didn’t talk beyond a preliminary greeting. Neil was aware of the fact that Rhemann had only acted by command of his president, but he wasn’t in the mood for apologies or justifications. And Rhemann wouldn’t give him any, anyway.

As they were about to board a hovercraft for the short ride to 12, Neil noticed Kevin was missing. He was usually the first around, always eager to scold Neil for being too slow. Neil took a look around and opened his mouth to ask when he saw Kevin rushing over the loading ramp, followed by a tall figure.

Wymack greeted them with a concerned frown. “Is this really a good idea?”

He meant Jean who stood behind Kevin, even towering above him but trying to make himself smaller. His eyes darted nervously from face to face until they found Andrew and Neil. He edged closer to where they were sitting and took the seat beside Neil.

“The more victors we show to the rebels and by Neil’s side the better. And besides, Abby said it would help his health to see something else besides the hospital.” Neil didn’t miss the way Kevin evaded Jean’s uncertain glances.

They landed in the meadow behind the broken fence. About five minutes later Neil could see the hard press of Wymack’s lips as he took in the destruction of his former home. Renee’s face was a blank mask beside Dan. She kneeled down to scoop up a handful of ash. For a moment she closed her eyes and moved her mouth in a silent prayer. Then she let the ash go and watched as it got blown away by the wind.

The mood was glum. And it didn’t help that the sky was mostly overcast with only bits and pieces of sun shining through. Jean stared at the gray clouds like they could fall down on him any second, burying him underneath.

“It’s going to rain,” he said softly.

“Do you want to go back?” Jeremy asked. He was the closest to Jean, so close in fact that their shoulders were brushing against each other.

Jean looked down to Jeremy and shook his head. “No, no, of course not.” He assured himself that Kevin was nearby when he said, “I’ll do it. I won’t cause trouble.”

Kevin’s eyebrows knit in confusion before his expression turned pained. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, just like Wymack always used to do. “You… you don’t have to do this, Jean. Just go back if you want, okay?”

There was a moment of silence as Jean seemed to be processing this. With a lot of hesitation he agreed eventually. Kevin looked uncomfortable while Jeremy watched Jean worried.

Laila directed the team to start with Neil at the town square. Between rubble and bombed shops Neil asked her what she wanted him to do. “I think we start with something innocuous to ease you into this interview. Maybe tell us how you met your friends. Or Andrew,” she said.

Neil stared at the burned remains of what had once been the bakery. It was a simple enough question, but there wasn’t much to tell, really. He cleared his throat a few times nervously. “Uh, I met Nicky in the bakery. I used to trade my quarry for bread. Everyone else I encountered after the Reaping.”

“Didn’t Andrew work in the bakery?” Laila asked in her calm interview voice.

“Yes,” Neil said. When Laila didn’t respond with another question, Neil realized he was supposed to say more. He couldn’t comprehend what, though. “He worked in the back, so I never saw him,” he concluded lamely.

“Are you sure?” Laila’s voice didn’t change, but she looked a little surprised. “Nicky told us he talked to Andrew about you from time to time. Before the Reaping.”

Neil blinked. “Yeah, I guess he saw me a couple of times? I don’t know.” He glanced to Andrew who stood with his arms crossed like the embodiment of indifference. But Neil saw his jaw twitch and knew Nicky was in trouble.

Laila figured that there wouldn’t be much more from either Neil or Andrew about this particular subject, so she nodded to Atos and Darius to make a cut there. “Alright, let’s move on. How about we make the actual interview in the woods? Or another place you feel comfortable.”

No place could make Neil comfortable enough to talk about his life, but the woods were probably better than the debris of whipping posts and gallows. He led them back to the meadow behind the charred fence, where they were still tripping over decomposing bodies. They didn’t walk far, just until the view to 12 was obscured by the fall foliage.

Alvarez guided Neil to an uprooted tree trunk where she instructed him to sit down. She messed a little with his hair and wiped some ash from his cheeks until she was satisfied. Then Laila started her Q-and-A game. For a moment Neil felt reminded of his truth-for-a-truth arrangement with Andrew. Albeit, he didn’t receive anything in return for this invasion of privacy.

Laila was great, though. She tried her best to make it as comfortable as possible for Neil. But in the end she got most of the ugly details from him. He didn’t reveal as much as he had to his friends. Certainly not as much as he had told Andrew. But it would be enough to convince the rebels about his intentions. At least Laila told him as much.

When he joined the others again, Wymack stepped up to Neil and took Neil’s face in his hands. “For fuck’s sake, Neil,” was all he said before letting go. Matt draped an arm over Neil’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Let’s take a break,” Alvarez suggested. Everyone agreed instantly, so Neil led them to a riverside behind a clearing he had once discovered after a short night and too much time at hand.

Neil splashed some water from the river in his face, wishing he could dive in and surface alone and naked and unobserved. Well, maybe not all alone. Beside him Andrew had followed his example and washed his hands in the cool water. Their eyes met and Neil had to look away, scolding himself internally for getting sidetracked. Even though they were done with the interview, Laila and Kevin wanted to do some more shots of Neil interacting with his friends. They wanted to use Matt, Dan and Renee in particular to improve Neil’s public image. Since all three were popular with the rebels in 13 and outer districts, they could vouch for Neil’s good intentions towards the rebellion.

Cheese sandwiches were passed around and they ate them in the shade of the trees. Neil sat next to Andrew at the far edge of the group, so he didn’t have to talk. There wasn’t much talking anyway. Only Jeremy chatted with Jean to distract him because he was staring like paralyzed at the river. He didn’t snap out of it until Renee squatted down right in front of him and offered him another sandwich.

Neil turned away to study Andrew’s profile in the midday light. Despite Jean’s prediction, the gray clouds had dispersed and let the sun through. “When was the first time you noticed me?” he asked.

Andrew side-eyed him for only a second before turning his attention back ahead. “The day you came to the bakery in your ratty clothes to coax bread from the old man.”

Neil recalled the day in his memory. It must have been around September. So exactly two years ago. It made him splutter out his next question a tad too hasty. “ _ How? _ ” He had been nothing back then. Unremarkable. Plain. Not worth a first, let alone a second glance.

“I already told you. You weren’t as inconspicuous as you think you were,” Andrew said dryly.

“I still don’t know what that means.”

“That’s because you’re stupid.”

Neil shrugged. “Just like you then.”

Done with their conversation, Andrew stood up to wander off into the woods to relieve himself. With nothing better to do, Neil watched Atos talking to Darius in rapid hand gestures. Darius laughed and answered, “You’re such a city boy.”

Neil had suspected it, but now he was sure that Atos was an Avox. The thought made his gut churn. His father could have had taken care of Atos’ tongue just as well as he had with hundreds of others. When Atos noticed Neil’s attention on him, Neil turned quickly away. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the feeling of the chilly breeze on his cheeks take his mind off his father and all the people he had killed, maimed and tortured. It wasn’t an easy thing to do because once he looked inside this dark box it was hard to stop the flood of images overwhelming him.

Fingers in his hair snapped Neil back to the present. Andrew stood in front of him and brushed a few of Neil’s strands back from his forehead. “Come on. We’re moving on.”

As they trudged back through the woods, they reached a boulder that was surrounded by blueberry bushes. They were colored from a pale pink to a rich red, littered with juicy fruits. Neil plucked a few of the berries and offered them to Andrew who took his time intentionally before accepting them. They tasted incredibly sweet, with variable acidity in the not fully matured ones. Dan threw one high and Matt caught it with his mouth, triumphantly smirking. Even Kevin and Rhemann allowed themselves to savor the fresh food.

Neil crouched down to pick a few deep-purple colored berries from the bottom half of the bushes and looked up to Andrew who was still munching the ones Neil had given him. His lips were already smeared in blue.

“Hey, if they’d allow it, would you make a cake with these?” Neil held a handful of berries up for Andrew to see.

“Who says I want to bake anything? Especially since you would eat it?” Andrew replied and stole a few berries from Neil.

Neil smiled. “Would you bake blueberry muffins for me?”

“Depends. What would I get in return?”

“Whatever you want,” Neil said sincerely. He rose and for a moment they simply stood there, gazing into each other’s eyes. Then Andrew grabbed Neil’s collar and tugged him closer. His thumb pressed distinctly on Neil’s carotid. “Stop it.”

Neil remained unbothered. “Stop what?” Andrew’s proximity quickened Neil’s heartbeat and he could smell the blueberries, the woods and the clean scent of the soap from 13 on him. He probably also tasted like blueberries.

“I’ll make the muffins. For me. But you’ll still owe me.” With a slight shake he let go of Neil, and Neil couldn’t fight the genuine smile that broke on his face. When he glanced sideways he saw Darius had been taping them, though, and dropped it immediately. Everyone was watching them with various degrees of obviousness. As Laila called, “Cut!” Neil felt heat rise to his cheeks. Not from embarrassment but from anger. He felt like someone had just stolen a very private moment from him, ripped right from his mind like it was something to be shared with others. The entitlement everyone thought they had over his life and especially his… thing with Andrew. It was nobody’s business.

Kevin crossed to them with a satisfied look on his face. “Not bad. No one would believe it if we made this stuff up. That’s why the people liked you so much in the arena.”

Ready to snarl at Kevin, Neil opened his mouth. He was stopped, however, by Andrew who shoved Kevin away and pointed a warning finger at him. “Do it again and I will kill you.”

There was an awkward silence as they walked back to town. Neil stayed with Andrew at the back while Wymack and Renee led them to the orphanage Renee had grown up in. Laila encouraged her to talk about her work there which would probably give the whole thing a teary eyed note. There was nothing more tragic than dead children. As long as they couldn’t bother anyone anymore with their problems, it was fine crying over their loss. Not a single child had made it out of the orphanage alive.

“I’m done,” Neil announced while Alvarez positioned Renee in the middle of the burned ruins. “I’ll meet you at the Victor’s Village.”

“Neil,” Wymack started but stopped when he noticed Andrew by Neil’s side. He eyed them briefly before he nodded. “Fine. Be careful.”

Kevin wanted to call them back, but Matt and Dan dragged him away to the others. “Cut them some slack, Kevin, my man,” Matt said cheerily.

 

There was only a brief pause in Andrew’s stride when he spotted the untouched Victor’s Village. He didn’t so much as glance at his own house before turning towards Neil’s. As it was, most of his things had been moved over there a while ago. His clothes, his books, some ingredients he used for baking and Neil would have never bought on his own.

“Would you come upstairs with me?” Neil asked after they had entered the house that looked just like he had left it a few weeks ago.

“Why?” Andrew asked. He was busy searching the coats in the hall.

“I need to check something.” The possibility that Neil had only imagined the cleaver was very real, after all. He hadn’t been in the best place on his last visit. It didn’t really matter anymore since his father had made clear he knew about Neil’s whereabouts and what he planned on doing. But the thought of his father, or his people, wandering through the house he had shared with Andrew, rummaging through their things, unnerved Neil.

Andrew pulled a pack of cigarettes from one of the coat pockets and shook it to estimate its content. It was almost full. “Looking for ghosts?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe,” Neil replied. Andrew shrugged and put a cigarette between his lips but didn’t light it yet. He followed Neil up the stairs and to Neil’s room. The door stood wide open just as Neil had left it. And the cleaver was still there. Placed on his pillow, the blade razor-sharp albeit a little dusty.

“Oh,” Neil said. He didn’t know what he had expected. Whether he would have preferred the cleaver gone and to question his sanity in exchange or, as it turned out, had his father so close to what was actually his.

Neil only became aware of how his whole body had turned to stone when Andrew pushed past him, tore the window above Neil’s bed open, grabbed the cleaver and threw it out.

“All done, fox boy,” Andrew said. Neil blinked a few times in surprise which was all the time Andrew needed to go through Neil’s drawers. He came back empty handed and left the room without explanation for his own room down the hall. Stunned, Neil went after him.

Just as Neil entered, Andrew pulled a lighter from the front pocket of a thick, black sweater. He lit his cigarette and pocketed it securely in his uniform. He discarded the sweater carelessly on his bed, and Neil went to pick it up. He held it in front of him and asked, “What is it with you and these over-sized clothes? I think Kevin would fit in this. Which means two of your size.” Neil knitted his brows in a fake frown. “Is this your get-along shirt with Aaron?”

As an answer Andrew blew smoke in Neil’s face. Overcome with a dizzying feeling of  _ home _ , Neil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His mother’s face flashed behind his eyelids only for a second before it was replaced with countless memories of Andrew.

“Freak,” Andrew said.

Neil opened his eyes. The sweater still clutched in his hands, he held Andrew’s gaze as he pulled the sweater over his head. With a cheeky smile he said, “The cats will love it.”

Andrew dragged him down by his collar so fast, Neil could barely produce a “Yes” before their lips crushed together. The taste of blueberries and cigarette smoke made Neil’s fingers twitch. A little breathless he asked, “Where… where can I touch?”

Teeth bit in his bottom lip and grazed over his jaw. Neil sighed. A hand found its way to his lower back, barely noticeable through the layers of sweater and costume. “Above the shoulders,” Andrew mumbled eventually in Neil’s right ear. Neil didn’t need to be told twice. He was a little overwhelmed with all the new places to touch, though. He settled for cradling Andrew’s face between his hands eventually as he was guided backwards, onto the bed.

It couldn’t last long, not with the team turning up any second. But it seemed to Neil as if his back had hit the mattress only a moment ago when Matt called out for them from downstairs.

Glances were exchanged over Neil’s new piece of clothing, which he had completely forgotten about. Still, a look from Andrew was enough to prevent anyone from making a comment. Well, almost anyone.

“Babe, I want to wear your shirt, too,” Alvarez demanded delighted. Laila who was watching something with Atos on his camera looked up, took in Neil and turned to Alvarez to reply dryly, “The way things are between us, you are even wearing my underwear,  _ babe _ .”

Alvarez gave an unapologetic grin. “In a committed relationship there is no separation of materialistic possessions.”

As they were done for the day, Rhemann herded them back to the hovercraft where Kevin spent the short ride to 13 going on about one of his favorite subjects – weapons mankind no longer had at its disposal. High-flying planes, military satellites, cell disintegrators, drones, biological weapons with expiration dates. Brought down by the destruction of the atmosphere or lack of resources or moral squeamishness.

 

After dropping off their uniforms, Andrew and Neil were escorted to dinner and afterwards straight to their room. It was fine with Neil, really, there were honestly worse things than making out with Andrew on his bed.

It wasn’t until evening on the following day that they gathered in Command to watch what Laila and Kevin had made out of yesterday’s material. Janie would disrupt the Capitol feed again to show the footage to all of Panem, the Capitol included. Neil didn’t really care and he wasn’t too eager to see himself on television, talking about his father and mother. But if it would help to get rid of their watchdogs, he could suffer through a few minutes of complete exposure. At least he hoped so.

In the end, he tuned out most of it. He saw himself talking in the woods, answering Laila’s questions. It wasn’t a pretty sight. No matter how many times Matt or Dan or Allison told him how handsome he was. All he could see was the marred skin over his left cheekbone, dangerously close to his eye. And of course, his father. In the way his eyes got cold and distant when he talked about something that made him angry. The way his auburn hair fit right into the colors of fall that surrounded him on screen. So Neil spent his time staring at the wall beside the television or sneaking looks at Andrew.

Allison’s sudden shout was what brought his attention back to the screen. She patted his hand from where she was sitting and grinned at him smugly. “That’s what I’m talking about! The cake smile! Well done, Neil.”

On screen Andrew and Neil were standing so close, their noses were almost touching. And Neil smiled. Lips and teeth tainted blue. A moment invaded by strangers.

“No one will hold any grudges against you after that,” Jeremy laughed.

Neil looked away. He had forgotten to take any blueberries with him after all.

 

Surprisingly or unsurprisingly, the propo was received well by the rebels and citizens of District 13. There were still wary glances and whispering when Neil passed, but the guards following them around had been revoked and people didn’t go out of their way anymore to avoid crossing paths with either Neil or Andrew.

It was around one week later that Kevin announced that the fighting was almost over in all districts except for 2. A tough nut to crack as Kevin described it. And since Neil was back on rebellion duties, with even more vigor as he was not only fighting for country and honor but for his own personal vendetta. That was how Kevin had presented him to the rebels. Abused by his father, almost sold, almost killed, Neil had all the reasons to march against the Capitol.

And now that the Butcher had been summoned back to the Capitol, District 2 lay vulnerable for the rebels to take. Which meant it was on Neil to boost the morale. He would go to District 2.

“Not without Andrew,” he made clear right away.

Someone groaned, a few others rolled their eyes. “Yes, boy. You and your boyfriend can go together. He’s part of your team now,” a rebel woman said exasperated.

“Isn’t it tiring being around each other all the time?” a man muttered to a snickering woman.

“Well, the last time I lost sight of him you left him to die in the Capitol,” Neil shot back coldly. There was some sort of petty satisfaction watching them squirm awkwardly under his piercing gaze.

Kevin shot him an annoyed look before he concluded, “You’ll start tomorrow afternoon.”

 

District 2 was a large district, composed of a series of villages spread across the mountains. Each had been originally associated with a mine or quarry, although now, many were devoted to the housing and training of Peacekeepers. None of this would present much of a challenge, since the rebels had 13’s airpower on their side, except for one thing: at the center of the district was a virtually impenetrable mountain that housed the heart of the Capitol’s military.

They had nicknamed the mountain the Nut since Neil had relayed Kevin’s “tough nut to crack” comment to the weary and discouraged rebel leaders there. The Nut had been established directly after the Dark Days, when the Capitol had had lost 13 and had been desperate for a new underground stronghold.

From the air, the Nut appeared to be just another mountain with a few entrances on its faces. But inside were vast, cavernous spaces where slabs of stones had been cut, hauled to the surface and transported down slippery narrow roads to make distant buildings. There was even a train system to facilitate transporting the miners from the Nut to the very center of the main town in District 2. It ran to the square that Neil and Andrew had visited during the Victory Tour.

While the inside of the Nut had been largely expanded to hold hovercrafts and missile launchers, the exterior of the mountain remained mostly unchanged. A rough, rocky tangle of trees and wildlife. A natural fortress to protect them from their enemies.

Things had hardly changed since Neil’s arrival two weeks ago. The outer villages were in rebel hands, the town divided, and the Nut was as untouchable as ever. Its few entrances heavily fortified, its heart safely enfolded in the mountain. While every other district had now wrested control from the Capitol, 2 remained in its pocket, even without the help of the Butcher.

Each day, Neil did whatever Kevin told him to do. He visited the wounded. Taped short propos with the camera crew. He wasn’t allowed in actual combat, but he was invited to the meetings on the status of the war, which had caused tension between the rebels since a good portion of them still saw him as a Wesninski. Suspicious of his motives and heritage. More than once Neil had been called Wesninski or Nathaniel, like it was a slur. And honestly, it was. He would never show it, but it wore him down. Only slowly he regained the respect and trust of the local rebels which was mostly thanks to Matt, Jeremy and Renee. The people stopped calling him his father’s name eventually and accepted Neil. Dan would usually threaten them with a fight when they stepped out of line which didn’t have as much of an effect as Matt’s public display of friendship.

For Neil and Andrew it was still an improvement to 13. They were freer, no schedules on their arms which Andrew had hated more than anything else. There were also fewer demands on their time and they lived above ground in the rebel villages or surrounding caves. For safety’s sake, Neil was relocated often. During the day, Neil had been given the clearance to hunt as long as he took a guard along and didn’t stray too far. In the thin, cold mountain air, Neil felt more of his physical strength returning and his mind being cleared.

When it was just him and Andrew, they usually didn’t hunt. They found a secluded area to smoke, to kiss, or just to sit in silence. With Renee, Matt, Dan or Jeremy he hunted and listened to them talk. Most nights Andrew kissed him senseless. Two times he had gotten Neil off during those times, but always vanished afterwards. He wore his knives again, even in bed.

Wymack called to inform Neil they would send in Janie and another brain from District 13, to approach the Nut problem. It didn’t really matter to Neil, but it felt good hearing Wymack’s voice. He kept Neil updated on the others and the cats.

Bright early in the morning, Janie and her partner from 13 assembled with the rebel leaders to talk about the Nut. Neil was asked to the meeting, although he didn’t have much to contribute. He and Andrew avoided the conference table and perched in the wide window sill that had a view of the mountain in question.

The commander from 2, a middle-aged woman named Dina, a former tribute and victor, took them on a virtual tour of the Nut, its interior and fortifications, and recounted the failed attempts to seize it.

When Dina finished the presentation, the questions from the brains began. Hours passed, and lunch came and went, as they tried to come up with a realistic plan. It was futile, no real innovative ideas came up, everything had been attempted before and obviously had failed. Dina’s frustration was building as they turned around in a circle. She was close to exploding when Kevin spoke up, “Is it really necessary that we take the Nut? Or would it be enough to disable it?”

“That would be a step in the right direction,” Janie said. “What do you have in mind?”

Kevin looked over to Neil, his eyes thoughtfully. “Think of it as a wild dog den. You’re not going to fight your way in. So you have two choices. Trap the dogs inside or flush them out.”

“We’ve tried bombing the entrances,” said Dina. “They’re set too far inside the stone for any real damage to be done.”

Kevin shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking of that. I was thinking of using the mountain.”

He walked over to where Neil and Andrew sat and examined the mountain through the window. A moment later, Janie joined him. Kevin pointed at something. “See? Running down the sides?”

“Avalanche paths,” Janie said with raised eyebrows. “It’d be tricky. We’d have to design the detonation sequence with great care, and once it’s in motion, we couldn’t hope to control it.”

“We don’t need to control it if we give up the idea that we have to possess the Nut. Only shut it down.” It was surprising for Kevin to suggest such a thing. He had been the one who insisted on the importance of the Capitol’s weapon arsenal. But he seemed to have given up on that.

“So you’re saying we start avalanches and block the entrances?” Dina asked.

“That’s it,” Kevin replied. “Trap the enemy inside, cut off from supplies. Make it impossible for them to send out their hovercraft.”

While everyone considered the plan, Rhemann flipped through a stack of blueprints of the Nut and frowned. “You risk killing everyone inside. Look at the ventilation system. It’s rudimentary at best. Nothing like we have in 13. It depends entirely on pumping in air from the mountainsides. Block those vents and you’ll suffocate whoever is trapped.”

“They could still escape through the train tunnel to the square,” Janie remarked.

Kevin crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “There you have it.”

 

Whittier was called to make the final decision. Only a handful of people were invited to be part of that conversation. Neil and Andrew were released with the rest and joined them for a card game that Neil didn’t understand but still joined in. He might have no idea what he was doing, but Matt was so horribly bad that Neil only lost in the first round. Since they played for sweets, even Andrew put some effort into it.

The call happened, the decision was made, and by evening Neil was suited up in his costume, with his bow slung over his shoulder and an earpiece that connected him to Wymack in 13 – just in case a good opportunity for a propo arose. They waited on the roof of the Justice Building with a clear view of their target.

Kevin’s plan exceeded anyone’s expectations. Janie had been right about being unable to control the avalanches once they had been set into motion. Whole sections of the Nut collapsed before Neil’s eyes, obliterating any sign that human beings had ever set foot on the place. The entrances were buried under tons of rocks, raising a cloud of dirt and debris that blackened the sky. Turning the Nut into a tomb.

They descended the roof, to await the people fleeing through the train tunnel. Neil sat down on the topmost step of the white marble stair that led down to the square. A few months ago he had been standing there with Andrew, accepting congratulations for winning the Games. Sometimes he still dreamed of Gorilla and his slow, gruesome death by mutts. Beside him Andrew lit a cigarette and they passed it between them, Neil actually smoking it for a change.

A few hours ago, the square had been a no-man’s-land, the front line of the fight between the rebels and the Peacekeepers. When Whittier had given approval for Kevin’s plan, the rebels had launched a heated attack and had driven the Capitol forces back several blocks so that the rebels would control the train station.

Gunfire picked up in the streets. Jeremy, Matt and Dan hurried by with a group of rebels, heading for the battle. Neil stayed behind with Andrew and Renee. He felt no obligation to join the fighters anyway.

Night fell quickly. Huge, bright spotlights were turned on, illuminating the square. Even from his position across the square, Neil could see clearly through the plate-glass front of the train station. It would be impossible to miss the arrival of a train, or even a single person. But hours passed and no one came. With each minute, it became harder to imagine that anyone had survived the assault on the Nut.

It was well after midnight when Alvarez came to attach a special microphone to Neil’s costume. “What’s this for?” he asked.

Wymack’s voice came on to explain. “I know you’re not going to like this, but we need you to make a speech.”

“A speech?” Neil said, immediately feeling queasy.

“I’ll feed it to you, line by line,” Wymack assured him. “You’ll just have to repeat what I say. Look, there’s no sign of life from the mountain. We’ve won, but the fighting’s continuing. So we thought if you told everybody that the Nut’s defeated, that the Capitol’s presence in District 2 is finished – you might be able to get the rest of their forces to surrender.”

Neil peered at the darkness beyond the square. “I can’t even see their forces.”

“That’s what the mic’s for,” Wymack said. “You’ll be broadcast, both your voice through their emergency audio system and your image wherever people have access to a screen.”

It was as if they didn’t know how horrible Neil was when they fed him lines. But he was tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep, so he gave his body a good shake and stood up. “I’ll give it a try.”

“Amaze me, fox boy,” Andrew said and gave him a mocking bow while he was still sitting.

It was strange, standing there, fully costumed, brightly lit, but with no visible audience to deliver the speech to. Like he was doing a show for the moon.

“Let’s make this quick,” Wymack told him. “You’re too exposed.”

The television crew, positioned out in the square with special cameras, indicated that they were ready. Neil told Wymack to go ahead, then clicked on his mike and listened carefully to him dictate the first line of speech. A huge image of Neil lighted up on one of the screens over the square as he began. “People of District 2, this is Neil Josten speaking to you from the steps of your Justice Building, where—”

A pair of trains came screeching into the train station side by side. As the doors slid open, people tumbled out in a cloud of smoke they had brought from the Nut. They must have had at least an inkling of what would await them at the square, because they tried to act evasively. Most of them flattened on the floor, and a spray of bullets inside the station took out the lights. They had come armed, but also wounded. The moans could be heard in the otherwise silent night air.

Someone killed the lights on the stairs, leaving Neil in the protection of shadow. A flame bloomed inside the station – one of the trains must be on fire – and thick, black smoke billowed against the windows. Left with no choice, the people started to push out into the square, choking but definitely waving their guns.

A young man staggered out from the station, one hand pressed against a bloody cloth to his cheek, the other dragging a gun. When he tripped, he fell to his face, Neil saw the scorch marks down the back of his shirt, the red flesh beneath. And suddenly, Neil felt his own burn like the flames were still licking at him. The searing pain, the struggle to breathe with smoke poisoning his lungs.

Neil’s feet flew down the steps and he took off running for the man. It wasn’t his problem, it wasn’t his! But where would he be now if no one had stopped to help him? Only this one time. Only once.

He was nearing the man, reaching down to help him, when he dragged himself up to his knees and trained his gun on Neil’s head.

Neil instinctively backed up a few steps, he heard someone coming to a halt behind him. There was no doubt that it was Andrew.

Now that the man had both hands on his gun, Neil noticed the ragged hole in his cheek where probably a stone or something had punctured the flesh. He smelled of burning things, hair and meat and fuel. Or was it Neil? Neil thought he was looking in a mirror. The man’s eyes were crazed with pain and fear. He had looked like that in the arena.

“Freeze,” Wymack’s voice whispered in Neil’s ear. Neil followed his order, realizing that this was what all of District 2, all of Panem maybe, must be seeing at the moment. The symbol of the rebellion, the son of the Butcher at the mercy of a man with nothing to lose.

His garbled speech was barely comprehensible. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you.”

All these years lying, lying, lying. For his own survival he had bent and broken the truth so many times, he hardly knew what was true anymore. And just now Neil couldn’t come up with anything but honesty. “I can’t.”

Logically, the next thing that should happen would be the man pulling the trigger. But he was perplexed, trying to make sense of Neil’s words. Neil experienced his own confusion as he realized that the initial impulse that had carried him across the square was replaced with despair.

“I can’t. That’s the problem, isn’t it?” He lowered his bow. “We blew up your mine. You burned 12 to the ground, almost killed my family doing so. We’ve got every reason to kill each other. So do it. Make the Capitol happy. My father would certainly promote you if you wouldn’t die right after me. I’m done killing his or the Capitol’s slaves for them.” He wasn’t, really. He would kill the man to save his life, if only he had the chance.

As it was, Neil dropped his bow on the ground and gave it a nudge with his boot. It slid across the stone and came to rest at the man’s knees.

“I’m not their slave,” the man muttered.

Neil chewed his bottom lip. “I guess I am. That’s why I killed Gor—Hawking… and he killed Amal… and he killed the girl from 1… and she tried to kill me. It just goes around and around, and who wins? Not the districts. Always the Capitol.” He was babbling now, he knew it. But as long as he was talking he wasn’t dead. “I am tired of being a piece in their Games.”

Wymack encouraged him. “Keep talking. Tell them about watching the mountain go down.”

“When I saw that mountain fall tonight, I realized I have no fight with you. Except for the one the Capitol gave us. Why should I go after you? I don’t even know you.” The man blinked at Neil uncomprehendingly. Neil lowered himself to his knees, voice low and urgent. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. “Why are you fighting the rebels? With Dina, who was your victor? With people who were your neighbors, maybe even your friends?”

“I don’t know,” the man said. But he didn’t take his gun off Neil.

Neil rose and turned slowly in a circle, addressing the people around him as Wymack whispered, “Who is the enemy?”

“These people,” Neil indicated the wounded bodies on the square, “are not your enemy!” To the train station, “The rebels are not your enemy! There is only one enemy, and it’s the Capitol! This is the chance to put an end to their power, but you have to do it together!”

The cameras were tight on Neil as the words hung in the air. Neil looked to the screen, hoping to see them recording some wave of reconciliation going through the crowd, or at least the man lowering his gun. He spotted Andrew who kept his eyes intently on the man with the gun.

Then Neil watched himself get shot on television.

 

_ “Don’t always me.” _

In the twilight of morphling, Neil recalled the words Andrew had said to him. He drifted deeper into this gauzy, violet-tinted world, with no hard edges, and many places to hide. “It’s always yes with you,” Neil called out into the nothingness.

When he finally began to surface into the sterile hospital room in 13, he could still hear someone whispering in his head. The morphling dulled everything, from his mind to his emotions. He felt nothing but emptiness inside him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough of the drug left in his veins for Neil to ignore the pain in the left side of his body. That was where the bullet had hit. Neil’s hands fumbled over the thick bandages encasing his ribs and wondered what he was still doing here.

It hadn’t been him, the man kneeling before Neil in the square, the burned one from the Nut. He hadn’t pulled the trigger. It had been, funny enough, someone from the rebel side. Revenge. Revenge for something Neil’s father had done. How many times did he have to tell the world that they would only do his father a favor by shooting him? There had been less a sense of penetration than the feeling he had been struck with a sledgehammer. Everything after the moment of impact was confusion riddled with gunfire.

Neil tried to sit up, but the only thing he managed was a moan.

The white curtain that separated Neil from the outside world whipped back, and Andrew stared down at him. He had purple shadows under his eyes and his usual detached expression was streaked with muted fury.

“I’m alive,” Neil said hoarsely.

“You don’t say.” Andrew walked over and plunked down on Neil’s bed, sending spikes of pain shooting across his chest. Before Neil could protest, Andrew’s hand shot forward and curled around Neil’s throat. “You are over one hundred now. I want—” He stopped, increased the pressure around the neck before weakening it again. “I will kill you.”

Neil swallowed. Slowly he lifted a hand, hovered with it over the one Andrew had around his throat and studied Andrew’s face for a moment before he lowered it. Andrew didn’t draw back when Neil’s hand found its place on his and Neil took it as a sign that it was alright. For now. He squeezed Andrew’s hand slightly.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the last paragraph because I swore to myself I wouldn't put any cliffhangers in my fics. I mean it would have been an epic ending for the chapter, Neil being shot and all, but why do that when I could just give Andrew some feelings?  
> Next chapter Neil is getting chained to either Andrew or Wymack for safety measures. Also what is this? Will there be..... a wedding............ like in Mockingjay with Annie and Finnick.......??? who knows!


	25. Panem et Circenses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason Seth has actually a big role in this fic? I am surprised, too. Like Andrew, Neil, Jean and Seth are probably the most random constellation of people in the whole fic.

An hour before dinner, Andrew was summoned by Abby for another check-up. According to her, he had done well the past two weeks. In District 2 there hadn’t been any regular examinations and only occasional calls with Betsy. But since Andrew hadn’t had a relapse or other physical problems, Abby said he would be free to go after another week in her care.

Neil was lulled into a semi-consciousness state by the morphling in his system. He was just dozing off when the curtain surrounding his bed was pulled back, and Seth stared down at him. At first Neil felt threatened, but his movements were so sluggish and slow he wouldn’t even be able to defend himself without the blinding pain in his left side. The hand he had lifted in an attempt to protect his face fell back down on the mattress.

Seth grinned at his discomfort. “Still a little sore?” With an expert hand, he quickly detached the morphling drip from Neil’s arm and plugged it into a socket taped into the crook of his own. “They started cutting back my supply a few days ago. Afraid I’m going to turn into one of those freaks from Boyd’s district. I’ve had to borrow from you when the coast was clear. Didn’t think you’d mind. It wasn’t even much, your psycho boyfriend was practically glued to your bed the whole time.”

So that was the reason why the morphling dulled all of Neil’s senses, except for the actual pain. If he had shared with Seth there couldn’t be enough left for him to really help.

Seth sighed as the morphling entered his bloodstream. “Maybe they were on to something in 6. Drug yourself out and paint flowers on your body. Not such a bad life. Seemed happier than the rest of us, anyway.”

In the weeks since Neil had left 13, Seth had gained some weight back. His hair was growing as well, helping to hide some of the scars. But if he was siphoning off Neil’s morphling, he was struggling.

“They’ve got that woman from your district to come around every day. Supposed to be helping me recover. As if someone as sheltered as her is going to fix me up. I bet she hasn’t killed a single soul in her entire life. Well, she’s still better than the fucking idiot they sent before her. Used to tell me at least twenty times a session that I’m totally safe here.”

Neil understood what he was talking about. The concept of safety was foreign to him. As if such a state of being ever existed, anywhere, for anyone. His mother beat it into him, to never feel safe, to never let his guard down.

“How about you, beacon of hope and seed of the Butcher’s loin? You feel totally safe?”

Neil grimaced at Seth’s words. “Oh, yeah. Right up until I got shot,” he said, the drugs taking the bite from his voice, so it didn’t sound as dry and sarcastic as Neil would like.

“Please. That bullet never even touched you. Roland saw to that,” Seth said.

It was true, the layers of protective armor in Neil’s costume prevented the bullet from penetrating him. Andrew had told him that his ribs were severely bruised, though, and the impact had ruptured his spleen. The doctors hadn’t been able to repair it, but apparently he did not need one. Which seemed a little fishy to Neil, a missing organ should cause more worry in his opinion. But he was no doctor, so what would he know?

Andrew appeared in the doorway, and Seth neatly unhooked himself and reattached Neil to the morphling drip. On his way out he scoffed at Andrew and said, “Don’t worry, we only had a little chat. I can’t stand being near Moreau anymore. His hygiene problem is getting out of hand.”

Once Andrew was settled on the bed, Neil turned his full attention towards him. His head was a little bit clearer now. “Everything alright?”

“I’m not the one who got shot,” Andrew replied flatly, eyes trained on the door.

“No, but you were drugged and tortured for several weeks. So what did Abby say?”

Andrew side-eyed him. “Nothing. I’m as good as new.”

With a frown, Neil took in Andrew’s appearance. He had gained a decent amount of weight since his return, and his ability to differentiate reality and imagination had gotten more reliable during their time in 2. He even slept several hours without interruptions now. But there was the broken skin over his knuckles, which was new to Neil. “What happened to your hands?”

“Disagreement with a rebel,” Andrew answered vaguely.

Neil rolled his eyes. “You are really annoying, do you know that? Just tell me what happened.”

Andrew was silent for so long that Neil had to accept he wouldn’t get a response any time soon. Just when Neil thought about taking a nap, Andrew said, “Shooting at our own people is stupid. And I heard that stupidity can be cured with a few punches to the head.” He shrugged. “Thought I might as well test that theory.”

Neil had no idea what had happened to the shooter. He didn’t really care enough to ask now, so instead he said, “Was there fighting after I was shot?”

“Not much. The workers from the Nut turned on the Capitol soldiers. The rebels just sat by and watched,” Andrew said. “Like the rest of the country.”

“That’s what they do best,” Neil said. He mulled a bit over the fact that he had opponents on both sides of the conflict now. He couldn’t turn his back to the rebels anymore, or another one would seize the chance to get some revenge for whatever they thought his father had done to them. It was bothersome and the prospect of leaving everything behind and running for the wilderness became more and more attractive.

“Would you kiss me?” Neil asked.

“No,” Andrew said.

Neil sighed. He had expected that answer. After all, Andrew didn’t trust Neil’s judgment while he was high on drugs, and some half-assed yes would never be good enough for him. It was still a pity.

 

Neil thought that losing a major organ would entitle him to lie around for a few weeks, but for some reason, his doctors wanted him up and moving almost immediately. Even with the morphling, the internal pain was intense the first few days, but then it slacked off considerably. The soreness from the bruised ribs, however, promised to hang on for a while. Neil started to resent Seth dipping into his morphling supply, but Seth was clever enough to never get caught. And ratting him out was no option; there was a kind of solidarity between the victors to keep outsiders out of their business.

Rumors of Neil’s death had been running rampant, so they sent in the team to film him in his hospital bed. Neil congratulated the districts on their successful battle for unity, just like Kevin had instructed him. Then he warned the Capitol to expect them soon. Since Andrew’s return, Neil had made the decision to join the rebels once they reached the Capitol. He wanted to get close to Riko, to get a good shot at him. And the doctor. It was what Andrew deserved, to at least slit Proust’s throat from ear to ear.

As part of his rehabilitation, Neil took short walks above ground each day. Andrew accompanied him most of the time. They were talking about the reasons the old world had vanished. Not just the rising sea levels and countless wars, but hypothetical scenarios like a disease that had turned most of humanity into walking corpses.

“Do you sometimes wonder what is going on across the ocean?” Neil asked.

“They’re either walking corpses or live their lives and wonder what the fuck is going on here,” Andrew said.

“Don’t you think it’s weird no one’s ever tried to find out? I mean not even to cross the lands up north or down south? The old maps show lots of other countries there.”

Andrew blew smoke in Neil’s face. “Maybe they tried.”

One afternoon, Kevin joined Neil when Andrew wasn’t in the mood for company. Kevin gave Neil an update on their current situation. Now that District 2 had allied with the rebels, they were taking a breather from the war to regroup. Fortifying supply lines, seeing to the wounded, reorganizing their troops.

The Capitol, like 13 during the Dark Days, found itself completely cut off from outside help as it held the threat of nuclear attack over its enemies. Unlike 13, the Capitol was not in a position to reinvent itself and become self-sufficient.

“The city might be able to scrape along for a while,” Kevin said. “Certainly, there are emergency supplies stockpiled. But the important difference between 13 and the Capitol are the expectations of the people. 13 was used to hardship, whereas in the Capitol, all they’ve known is  _ Panem et Circenses _ .”

Neil gave him a dry look. “Don’t get carried away with your vast knowledge, Kevin. Speak clearly.”

Lips pursed in irritation, Kevin returned Neil’s look as if Neil was the one being childish. “It’s a saying from thousands of years ago, written in a language called Latin about a place called Rome,” he explained with an air of superiority to his words, but also an excited gleam in his eyes. “ _ Panem et Circenses _ translates to ‘Bread and Circuses’. The writer was saying that in return for full bellies and entertainment, his people had given up their political responsibilities and therefore their power.”

Neil thought about the Capitol. The excess of food. And the ultimate entertainment. The Hunger Games. With a raised eyebrow he asked, “They called this country bread?”

“Really? That’s all you get from that?”

It wasn’t. But riling Kevin up a little was Neil’s ultimate entertainment. He flashed Kevin a smug smile before he revisited their topic. “So that’s what the districts are for. To provide the bread and circuses.”

“Yes,” Kevin replied graciously as if Neil hadn’t just ruffled some of his feathers. “And as long as that kept rolling in, the Capitol could control its little empire. Right now, it can provide neither, at least at the standard the people are accustomed to. We have the food and Laila and I are about to orchestrate an entertainment propo that’s sure to be popular. After all, people love weddings.”

Neil froze in his tracks while Kevin kept on walking, only noticing a few meters further that Neil wasn’t at his side anymore. A wedding. Neil really hoped Kevin wasn’t really suggesting what Neil thought he was. If they were forcing him to marry Andrew in front of a camera so they could keep up their perverse curiosity about Neil’s life and make it as public as possible, he would seriously kill someone. He would burn his fucking costume and with it the whole district.

It wasn’t difficult for Kevin to keep up with Neil’s line of thinking, so he rushed to reassure him. “No, no, Neil. Not your wedding. Matt and Dan’s. All you need to do is show up and pretend to be happy for them.”

“I won’t have to pretend to be happy for them,” Neil told Kevin curtly. He didn’t want to snap at Kevin like this, but he literally had had no idea of Dan and Matt’s plans. This was how it must have felt for them when he had finally come forth with the truth about himself and all the things he had kept secret from them. Not that wedding plans were comparable to a whole made up identity, but still. It was the first time that Neil felt something like hurt over the fact that he hadn’t been told about such an important decision of his friends.

When Neil returned to his hospital room he found Matt pacing back and forth in front of his door. Matt stopped when he noticed Neil and greeted him with a happy smile and wave of his hand. Inside the room he examined Neil and asked, “How are you? Does it still hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Neil said, but corrected himself upon Matt’s scolding look. “It’s better than a few days ago.”

“That’s good!” There was a pause in which neither of them said anything. Matt rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around the room. “Listen, Neil. I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” Neil drawled.

“So, well. Dan and I are getting married.”

There it was. Neil nodded. “I know.”

Matt blinked. “You know? Who told you?! I wanted to be the one!”

“Kevin mentioned something earlier,” Neil said. If Matt had wanted to tell him then—“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Both hands in his hair, Matt ruffled restlessly through the black mess. “I intended to. You know, it wasn’t a lie when I told Kathy about my proposal to Dan. Of course we didn’t want to celebrate in the Capitol, but whatever. We wanted to go ahead with it since our arrival here in 13.” He sighed and smoothed his hair back down. “But since the thing with Andrew, Seth and Jean happened, it didn’t feel right. After their rescue we thought it was the right time, like better now than never. But we were all just so busy, and you really had enough problems as it was. We asked Kevin and President Whittier to make it official as soon as possible. I wanted to tell you then, I swear! But your father came along and you had even more problems. I seriously didn’t want to bother you just then with my wedding plans. Well, and now you got shot. I really had to seize the opportunity of brief peace before another catastrophe happens.”

“Matt,” Neil started, mimicking him by nervously ruffling through his hair. “You really should have just told me. It doesn’t matter what kind of problems are looming nearby, I mean there will probably never be a time without problems. At least in the near future. And you and Dan deserve to be happy. And I am really happy for you. So, uh, stop being so considerate.” It felt weird to say things like that. But Neil thought it was somehow important to be honest with Matt.

“Neil, I really need to hug you now,” Matt said, and a moment later Neil was crushed in a bear hug by a grinning Matt. Neil found he didn’t mind it much. In fact, he enjoyed the feeling of being close to someone he could trust unconditionally.

 

The next few days brought a flurry of activity as the wedding was planned. The differences between the Capitol and 13 were thrown into sharp relief by the event. When Whittier said “wedding”, he meant two people signing a piece of paper and being assigned a new compartment. Kevin, Allison and the other Capitol rebels meant hundreds of people dressed in finery at a three-day celebration. It was kind of amusing to watch them haggle over the details. Kevin had to fight for every guest – it was about what they showed to the districts and the Capitol! – while Allison had to fight for every musical note. Whittier vetoed a dinner, entertainment and alcohol, and Kevin snarled, “What’s the point of the propo if no one’s having any fun!”

Either way, even a quiet celebration caused a stir in 13, where they seemed to have no holidays at all. A feeling which Neil could relate to. He had visited a few funerals, sometimes he had watched the people in different districts and the Capitol during their festivities, but he had never attended a wedding.

When it was announced that children were wanted to sing a wedding song, practically every kid showed up. There was no shortage of volunteers to help make decorations. In the dining hall, people chatted excitedly about the event. Forgotten were Neil’s heritage and the name Wesninski all of a sudden.

Roland was assigned to make a dress for Dan and a suit for Matt, which was another source of trouble since 13’s fabric assortment consisted of thick cotton in the colors gray, white and black. The material for Neil’s costume had been brought along from the Capitol which made it so special. It was Renee who saved the day in the end. She offered to take Roland and Dan to District 12 where they could sort through the variety of evening clothes in her closet. Maybe Roland could tailor something from it. This made Allison hunt down Wymack to force him into allowing Matt to find something suitable in his house. No one asked Neil or Andrew. Their size difference was too… noticeable.

As the preparations progressed, Neil saw less and less of Andrew. Only at night they were together for shared kisses and warm touches. When Neil asked what Andrew was up to during the day, he was usually ignored or silenced with a hand between his legs and a tongue in his mouth.

 

Despite reservations on Whittier’s side that it was too extravagant, and on Allison’s side that it was too drab, the wedding was a success. The three hundred lucky guests culled from 13 and the many refugees wore their everyday clothes, the decorations were made from autumn foliage, the music was provided by a choir of children accompanied by the lone fiddler who had made it out of 12 with his instrument. It was simple, frugal by the Capitol’s standards. It didn’t matter, though, because nothing could compete with the beaming couple.

Dan wore an orange silk dress, a soft color that reminded Neil of a sunset with a barely noticeable red, and Matt a white and orange suit, both perfectly altered by Roland. But it wasn’t the fine clothes that let them shine, it was their radiant faces; two people who could celebrate the fact that they had met each other, even though the odds hadn’t been in their favor. Neil didn’t think much of marriage, his perception biased since it had chained his mother to his father’s side for so long. She had died while still being married to her murderer, after all. But there were other – better – examples, too. And Dan and Matt would be one of them.

Niobe, Dan’s mentor, conducted the ceremony. It was a mix of customs from both districts, 6 and 7. Dan gave Matt a small, hand-carved figure that represented the significance of wood in her district. In return, Matt had a small travel bag prepared for Dan to symbolize the beginning of their journey together. Before the kiss, Niobe handed them each a pine tree twig that stood for faithfulness, love, vitality and fortitude.

No, Neil didn’t have to pretend to be happy for them. After the kiss that sealed the union, the cheers and a toast with apple cider, the fiddler struck up a tune that turned every head from 12. Nothing had been officially scheduled at this point, but Kevin, who was calling the propo from the control room, must have his fingers crossed. Sure enough, Rena grabbed Coach Hernandez by the hand and pulled him into the center of the floor and faced off with him. People poured in to join them, Renee leading a laughing Allison, Abby forcing a reluctant Wymack, and soon two long lines were formed. The dancing began.

Neil was standing off to the side, not keen on dancing and also looking out for Andrew who was missing. Suddenly, someone nudged him in the side with an elbow. Jean watched the laughing crowd with a distant look in his eyes. “Are you going to miss the chance to let Riko see you dancing?”

He was not wrong. What could spell victory louder than happy rebels twirling around to music?

“I don’t think my ribs would appreciate it,” Neil said. It was an excuse and Jean knew as much, but he didn’t push the matter. He simply stood there with Neil and watched Jeremy trying to follow Betsy’s lead and failing miserably doing so.

Dancing transformed the people. The refugees from 12 taught the steps to the District 13 guests. Everyone had the time of their life; nothing so silly, joyful or fun had happened in so long. Katelyn’s face was flushed red and her eyes gleamed in excitement as Aaron whirled her with surprising skill over the dance floor. Allison shouted that this could go on all night if it was up to her. But Kevin had one last event planned for his propo. Neil hadn’t heard anything about it, but then again, it was meant to be a surprise.

Four people wheeled out a huge wedding cake from a side room. Among them was the old baker. The guests backed up as this rarity passed them. A giant blueberry cake consisting of layers of cream and chocolate and berries. Neil was a little stunned at the sight of it, and he couldn’t help but wonder whose idea this had been. Probably Kevin’s, inspired by Neil’s request during the propo shoot in 12. It was a little irritating that Kevin used moments that were initially meant to be private between Andrew and Neil. But it was Dan and Matt’s wedding, so Neil guessed it was alright. At least it served as something that would make his friends happy, and not as another promotion for rebellious propaganda.

“Enjoying yourself, fox boy?” Andrew suddenly asked from beside him. Neil flinched, then grimaced at the pain in his left side.

Andrew gave him a bored look. “Someone’s jumpy.”

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Now you sound desperate,” Andrew said.

Neil sighed. “Fuck you.”

There was some rustling from behind Andrew’s back where his left hand was hidden. Curiously, Neil tried to catch a glimpse, but Andrew pushed him back. “Always sticking your nose in other people’s business, Neil.”

“Other people are also always sticking their noses in my business,” Neil shot back and shrugged.

“Whatever. Here, take it before I change my mind.” He tossed something to Neil that Neil caught reflexively with both hands. It was a muffin. A perfectly formed blueberry muffin with fresh berries on top. Neil was so baffled for a moment, he almost missed Andrew turning around to leave.

“You made the cake,” he called after Andrew.

Andrew stopped. “The old man asked for some help. In return I get access to the kitchen and can make my own stuff.”

“That’s why you’ve been so busy the last few days. That’s seriously amazing, Andrew.” Neil smiled. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do it for you, idiot.”

“The muffin, though.”

“I am still thinking about my repayment. So don’t be presumptuous.” Andrew tilted his head and gave Neil a slow once over. “I’m going to bed.”

Neil looked over his shoulder where the party was still in full swing. Kevin had gotten his footage, and all of his friends were enjoying themselves. Jean had wandered off to somewhere else which was probably for the best since Seth hadn’t lied about his hygiene problem. Someone should tell Jean to take a shower, preferably soon. Biting his lip, Neil turned back to Andrew. “I’m coming with you.”

 

Technically, Neil was still supposed to sleep in the hospital. He hadn’t been in their compartment since before they had left for District 2, apart from short visits to the cats. Despite his reservations regarding 13 and their military lifestyle, he missed his bed. The privacy of being in his own quarters where no one could enter without his permission. And, more than anything, the shower. Because of his injuries, bathing or showering had not been possible for Neil the last few days. This morning, after Abby had removed his stitches, she had given him clearance to try it. He should keep the fresh scar covered, though, and also keep someone within call. After all, it was possible for him to faint since his ribs were painfully bruised, and he might hurt himself even more in the process.

It was not even midnight when the door to their compartment closed behind Neil, but the hours of socializing left him exhausted. King and Sir greeted him instantly by rubbing their heads against his legs. Awkwardly, Neil settled on the floor since bending down to pet them wasn’t an option.

“Do you want to shower?” Andrew asked from where he was perched on the chest of drawers.

“Yes,” Neil said. He got to his feet and flapped with his arms a little helplessly. “Can you… can you help me?” Pulling the shirt over his head seemed like an impossible task right now. Andrew didn’t say anything when he slid from the chest and came over. They stood there for a moment in complete silence until Andrew lifted the bottom edge of Neil’s shirt. He changed his mind, however, as he let the hem fall back down and started with peeling the sleeves off Neil’s arms one at a time. This way Neil didn’t have to move around as much.

The shirt landed on Neil’s bed and Andrew took in the heavily bandaged torso. It was mostly to help Neil with his bruised ribs and lungs, as well as to cover the scar where his spleen had been. Gently, Andrew undid the clips that held the gauze in place and started to take it off.

“Abby said I should cover the scar for another few days from water,” Neil said.

Andrew placed the bandages on the chest and pulled some sort of plastic foil from a drawer. Wordlessly, he ripped a piece from it and taped it over the slightly swollen skin. Without the bandages around his ribs it hurt to breathe normally, but Neil reminded himself that he had endured worse. Much worse.

With a fresh set of clothes he headed to the bathroom where he turned on the light. Neil looked at the shower and wondered if he couldn’t just go another day or two without it. Reaching his hair would be plenty hurtful, let alone keeping his arms up there long enough to wash it. But he felt itchy and greasy, so he would just clench his teeth and pull through it. A bathtub would be a lot more convenient, though.

Andrew’s bare feet were silent against the concrete floor, but the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut behind Neil made him turn around. Andrew studied the bruise over Neil’s left side with a bored look, but the fingers he pressed to the scars on the right side were a heavy and lingering weight. Neil waited to see if he had anything to say, but he remained silent.

His heart pounding against his injured ribs should be painful, but Neil could only feel the rush of anticipation as he leaned in to kiss Andrew, needing to know if he would lean away or push him back. Instead Andrew opened his mouth to Neil without hesitation and slid his hand up Neil’s chest to his throat. The hitched breathing made Neil almost wince, but he fought to ignore the soreness.

“You’re a mess,” Andrew said against Neil’s lips.

“I thought we established that a long time ago.”

Andrew pulled back and moved around Neil to turn the shower on. At least getting out of his pants was still possible, even if it was more wiggling his legs free than pulling them down. Only with the underwear he had to rely on Andrew’s help.

It was awkward being naked in front of someone else, his scars and bruises on full display, and of course, the general vulnerability that came with standing in front of someone who was still fully clothed. But the uncomfortable curl in Neil’s gut was somewhat eased by the detached way Andrew handled him. There were a few stolen glances, but no reaction Neil could actually read in Andrew’s expression.

Neil stepped into the shower, half tense since he wasn’t sure if he should expect pain or not. The warm water turned out to be a real blessing, not only for his itching scalp but also for his beat up body. Neil ducked his head and let the water spray over his hair and neck. He closed his eyes and savored the momentarily, and surely short lived, peace.

A hand in his hair pulled him from the blissful nothingness in his head, and he cracked his eyes open to see Andrew standing in front of him. Neil forgot how to breathe.

Andrew was still wearing his pants, but aside from that he had stripped his shirt and bands off. Small streams of water raced down his temples and over his cheeks to drip off his chin. Neil couldn’t help but stare at the rise and fall of the naked chest in front of him. He wanted to touch, but clenched his hands into fists to not give way to any temptations. This was a huge step for Andrew, maybe even a little too hasty as Neil thought, but he trusted Andrew to know what he was doing and to put it to a halt if he felt uncomfortable.

“Don’t touch past my shoulders,” Andrew said.

Neil nodded and reached for Andrew’s face. He let his thumb swipe over blond eyebrows and followed the water down to Andrew’s chin. It wasn’t long until Andrew pushed his hand away and closed the door to the shower stall.

He got Neil’s hair washed efficiently, no patience to be gentle, but by the time he moved on to Neil’s body there was more kissing than cleaning. At one point Andrew turned his face away which made Neil chase water down the side of his neck. Andrew’s fingers clenched around Neil’s biceps as a shudder wracked his frame. Neil felt him opening his mouth, probably to say something cynical, so Neil bit down and sucked lightly on the soft skin. Andrew turned his head into it with a sharp hiss. Neil smiled in the crook of his neck, certain that Andrew had to feel it against the over sensitive skin. He liked it. He liked it that Andrew liked it. That it was in  _ his _ power to make Andrew feel good.

Eventually, Andrew tangled his fingers in Neil’s hair and pulled his head away. A flat hand was put against Neil’s abdomen and pushed him back until he was out of the spray and pressed against slick tiles.

Andrew bit the question into the corner of Neil’s jaw. “Yes or no?”

“You know it’s always yes with you,” Neil said.

“Except when it’s no, so shut up,” Andrew said.

Neil opened his mouth to protest, but Andrew simply clapped his hand over Neil’s mouth and kept it there until going to his knees meant he couldn’t reach anymore. Just then, Neil thought he would faint from the dizziness he felt as Andrew’s lips ghosted across Neil’s hip and reached even lower to press an opened mouth kiss on the inside of his thighs. His legs quivered and as Andrew gently bit into the skin and sucked on it, just like Neil had done before with Andrew’s neck, he hit the wall with the back of his head and moaned loudly. Andrew looked up and their eyes met. Holding Neil’s gaze, Andrew found his way back to Neil’s hip bone and then swallowed him whole.

With trembling fingers Neil caught on Andrew’s hair, desperate to get a good grip and not to lose his mind completely. Andrew pinned him against the wall with a hand on his hip, which helped somewhat, but Neil still felt like he was falling. It was definitely different from a hand in his pants, getting him off in fast, calculated motions. He alternated between watching Andrew and resting his head against the chilly wall with closed eyes. When his grip got too tight, he was warned by a low growl that had, in fact, the opposite effect since he wanted to strengthen his hold even more.

Afterwards, Neil slid down the slick wall, gasping for breath, wincing from the pain in his ribs and dizzy with burnt-out need.

“Do you want—” he started, voice ragged.

Andrew kissed him to shut him up. Neil grimaced a little at the taste on Andrew’s tongue but was happy to oblige anyway. Andrew braced himself with a forearm against the wall, keeping a few comfortable inches between their bodies so there wasn’t a feeling of skin on skin. Neil respected that gap but crossed his arms behind Andrew’s head to keep him close, careful to not reach past his neck. At first, Neil didn’t notice the absence of Andrew’s other hand until Andrew’s breath caught against his lips. Neil blinked in confusion and almost pulled back to look down. He didn’t, though.

It’d been months since kissing had become a regular thing between them, but every night ended the same: Andrew getting Neil off and then sending him away or leaving himself. He wouldn’t even unzip his pants as long as Neil was still around. Neil wasn’t sure what exactly had prompted that change in their routine, but he didn’t want to question it right now, as long as Andrew stayed with him.

He hummed something in Andrew’s mouth, a mix of approval and encouragement. Andrew wasn’t really thrilled by Neil’s support, but he wasn’t annoyed enough to pull away, either. Neil held tight, kissed the unfamiliar taste of himself from Andrew’s mouth and placed quick kisses over his jaw and chin until Andrew finally went still. Andrew took a couple of seconds to catch his breath, then pushed at the wall until Neil obediently let him go. Andrew rinsed his hand under the spray before standing up and helping hoist Neil up. Every part of his body seemed to be thankful for their activity, except for his left side. With a groan Neil managed to leave the stall, Andrew’s eyes following him attentively. Quickly, Neil wound a towel around his waist and stumbled on still shaky legs to the door. He left Andrew to collect and clean himself, and dried himself as much as possible in the main room.

He was still mostly wet when Andrew turned up and shrugged at the look Andrew gave him for it. It was hard to reach down to towel his legs when he could barely bend over, or reach his back when lifting his arms made his ribs protest soundly.

Andrew scrubbed him dry, careful around his injuries and too vigorous everywhere else. He peeled the dripping plastic foil from the scar and firmly wrapped the bandages back around Neil’s torso. With a considering finger he ran over the purple bruising over Neil’s ribs that peeked out from under the bandages before he helped Neil into his clothes. As Andrew was busy getting dressed, Neil took the untouched blueberry muffin from Andrew’s bed where he had placed it earlier to keep it out of reach of the cats.

Cross-legged, Neil settled on his own bed and picked a berry from the top. When Andrew was done, Neil offered him the muffin in his open palm and asked, “Do you want the other half?”

Andrew seemed to be considering this, but he ducked his head and crawled next to Neil to take the muffin from his hand. He leaned against the wall, legs outstretched, and Neil took his chance to slide down and rest his head on Andrew’s thighs. He thought about Andrew’s wet and naked chest and rubbed his cheeks fiercely to hide the excited blush that crawled from his ears down to his collar.

“Is this okay?” Neil asked and nudged against Andrew’s thigh with his cheek.

“Yes,” Andrew said. He handed Neil his share of the muffin and they ate in silence.

Neil fell asleep like that and only woke to a light touch in his hair. “Go to bed,” Andrew said to him. What he meant was for Neil to move to his pillow so Andrew could get up and climb into his own bunk. Neil nodded sleepily, barely managing to find his way under his covers before he was out again.

 

Blindsided. That was how Neil felt when he was told he wouldn’t be going to the Capitol. He jumped from his chair in Command and glared at Whittier and Rhemann across from him. “I have to go! I kept your fucking rebellion alive!” How else was he supposed give Riko a bullet straight in his vulgar mouth?

Whittier barely looked up from the screen in his hand. “And as the symbol of this rebellion, your primary goal of unifying the districts against the Capitol has been achieved. Don’t worry – if it goes well, we’ll fly you in for the surrender.”

The surrender? After someone else killed Riko. Or worse, imprisoned him which would make him unreachable for Neil.

“I’ll miss all the fighting. I am still the best shot you’ve got!” Neil said, furious. He usually wouldn’t brag about this, but even Kevin had admitted that Neil wasn’t too bad. And from him that was as close as someone could get to a compliment. “Matt and Dan are going.”

“Soldier Boyd and Soldier Wilds have shown up for training every day unless occupied with other approved duties. We feel confident they can manage themselves in the field. Same goes for Soldier Walker,” said Whittier. “How many training sessions do you estimate you’ve attended?”

Apart from the strength training with Wymack and Andrew, none. “I was hunting. And I trained with Janie and my bow down in Special Weaponry.”

“It’s not the same, Neil,” said Rhemann. “We all know you’re very much capable and a good shot. But we need soldiers in the field. You don’t know the first thing about executing orders, and you’re not exactly at your physical peak.”

“That didn’t bother you when I was in 8. Or 2, for that matter,” Neil countered.

“You weren’t originally authorized for combat in either case,” said Kevin, shooting him a glare. “Don’t be stupid and put your health at risk over this.”

It was true, the bomber battle in 8 and his intervention in 2 had been spontaneous, rash, and definitely unauthorized.

“Also, both resulted in your injury,” Wymack reminded him. Suddenly, Neil saw himself through his eyes. A smallish, nineteen-year-old boy who was littered with scars and couldn’t quite catch his breath since his ribs hadn’t fully healed. Disheveled. Recuperating. Barely holding it together without Andrew who also wasn’t on top of his game. Not a soldier, but someone who needed to be looked after.

“I have to go,” Neil said.

“Why?” Whittier asked.

He couldn’t very well say it was so he could carry out his own personal revenge against Riko. From the corner of his eye, Neil saw Andrew giving him a telling look.  _ Now, come up with something, fox boy. _

“Because of my father. I want to see his face when he sees his world crumble.” It wasn’t a lie, but Neil actually did not intend to get in a ten mile radius of his father. He was certain he wouldn’t survive an encounter, even if his father were to be chained and muzzled.

Whittier thought about this a moment. Considered Neil. “Well, you have three weeks. It’s not long, but you can begin training. If the Assignment Board deems you fit, possibly your case will be reviewed. The same goes for Soldier Minyard.” He looked over to Andrew, but still addressed Neil. “If he doesn’t get clearance, he won’t be accompanying you.”

That was it. That was the most Neil could hope for. Maybe it was his own fault, but he hadn’t put much priority on something like jogging around a field with a gun while so many other things had been going on. And now he had to pay for his negligence.

“You will compensate for forcing me into this idiocy,” Andrew said after the meeting.

“You don’t have to come along,” Neil replied. On one side he would like to know Andrew was safe in 13, but on the other hand he didn’t want him out of his sight.

Andrew’s indifferent expression didn’t change. “I know I don’t have to do anything. Stop wasting my time.”

 

Back in the hospital, Neil found a surprising lively Jean and spitting mad Seth in the same circumstances as him and Andrew. He told them about what Whittier had said. “Maybe you can train, too.”

“Fine. I’ll train. But I’m going to the fucking Capitol if I have to kill a crew and fly there myself,” said Seth.

“Probably best not to bring that up in training,” Jean said, blasé to Seth’s cursing. 

Neil shrugged. “It’s nice to know we’ll have a ride, though.”

The next morning, when all four of them reported for training at 7:30, reality slapped Neil in the face. They’d been funneled into a class of relative beginners, fourteen- or fifteen-year-olds, which seemed a little insulting until it was obvious they were in far better condition than they were. Especially Neil and Jean struggled.

Dan and the other people already chosen to go to the Capitol were in a different, accelerated phase of training. The special training Nicky had talked about, the one Erik was attending as well.

After they stretched – which hurt – there was a couple of hours of more strengthening exercises – which didn’t hurt as much thanks to Wymack, for Andrew it was actually the easiest task – and an eight kilometer run – which killed. Of all things, the running hit Neil the worst. Even with Seth’s motivational insults driving him on, Neil had to drop out after two kilometers. Running had been his biggest advantage since, well, since ever.

“It’s my ribs,” he explained to Niobe later who led their training. “They’re still bruised.”

“Well, I’ll tell you, Neil, those are going to take at least another month to heal up on their own,” she said.

Neil shook his head. “I don’t have a month.”

She looked him up and down. “The doctors haven’t offered you any treatment?”

“Is there a treatment?” Neil asked. “They said they had to mend naturally.”

“That’s what they say. But they could speed up the process if I recommend it. I warn you, though, it isn’t any fun,” she told him.

“I don’t know if you heard about it, but I’m pretty used to not having any fun,” Neil said.

Niobe didn’t argue with that. She scribbled something on a pad and sent him directly back to the hospital. Neil hesitated. He didn’t want to miss any more training. But then he nodded and Andrew followed him without question. Niobe also didn’t argue this.

Twenty-four needle jabs to his rib cage later, Neil was flattened out on his hospital bed, gritting his teeth to keep from begging them to bring back his morphling drip. However, he couldn’t risk mixing the two drugs in his system together – the morphling and whatever set his ribs on fire – since it would lead to dangerous side effects. They had made it clear Neil would have a difficult couple of days. But he had told them to go ahead.

It was a bad night. Sleep was out of the question. Neil thought he could actually smell the ring of flesh around his chest burning, and next door Seth was fighting off withdrawal symptoms. Andrew sat by the bed in the comfortable armchair and gave him this-is-your-own-fault-for-being-stupid looks. But he also persuaded Neil to drink enough water and sometimes Neil felt a hand combing through his hair. Around three in the morning, Seth’s muffled voice could be heard as he managed to shout every bit of profanity District 10 had to offer.

At dawn, Jean appeared and helped Andrew drag Neil out of bed, determined to get to training. Seth waited for them, skin a sick greenish color and shaking like a leaf. “Move your fucking asses,” he snarled which made Andrew only slow down even more.

They somehow made it to the exit to the training site. That was where Neil thought they were going to lose Jean. It was pouring outside and Jean’s face turned ashen and he seemed to have ceased breathing.

“It’s just water. It won’t kill us,” Neil said. Somehow that made Seth laugh uncontrollably. Jean clenched his jaw, but he followed Seth out into the mud. Rain drenched them as they worked their bodies and then slogged around the running course. Neil bailed after two kilometers again, and he had to resist the temptation to take off his shirt so the cold water could sizzle off his ribs. He forced down his field lunch of soggy fish and beet stew. Seth got halfway through his bowl before it came back up. Jean’s fingers were trembling so bad, he couldn’t hold his spoon still.

In the afternoon, they learned to assemble their guns. Neil was done in a matter of seconds, the movements ingrained in his muscles, even after two years without a gun. Andrew watched him doing so and copied his work, albeit a lot slower. Jean managed since the trembling in his fingers had ceased. But Seth couldn’t hold his hands steady enough to fit the parts together.

Even though the rain continued, the afternoon was an improvement for Neil because they were on the shooting range. It took him a few minutes of adjusting from the bow to the gun, but it was like swimming, it was impossible to forget how to do it. He asked Andrew if he wanted any help but only got a growl in response. Some time later, however, Andrew came to him and allowed Neil to position himself behind him to correct his posture if necessary. With a little grin, Neil rested his chin on Andrew’s shoulder and whispered instructions in his ear.

At night, Andrew pressed Neil down in the mattress and left fierce kisses and bites all the way down to Neil’s thighs.

Each morning Neil forced himself to get up. Jean was allowed to leave the hospital and was roomed with Jeremy since he wasn’t allowed to live alone, either. Just like Andrew. Seth followed shortly after, Matt volunteered to share with him until he was allowed to live on his own. And by the end of the week, Neil’s ribs felt almost like new, and Seth could assemble his rifle without a problem.

Niobe gave them an approving nod as they knocked off for the day. “Fine job, Soldiers,” she said, hinting a grin. She couldn’t take this form of address any more serious than the rest of the victors.  

A handful of Niobe’s group were moved into an additional class that gave Neil hope he may be a contender for the actual war. The soldiers simply called it the Block, but the tattoo on Neil’s arm listed it as S.C.C., short for Simulated Street Combat.

Deep in 13, they had built an artificial Capitol city street. It didn’t look familiar to Neil, so either they had made it up, or it was taken from a part of the city Neil had never been to. The instructor broke them into a squad of eight and they attempted to carry out missions – gaining a position, destroying a target, searching a home – as if they were really fighting their way through the Capitol.

The whole simulation was rigged so that everything that could go wrong did just that. A false step triggered a land mine, a sniper appeared on a rooftop, their own gun jammed, a crying child led them into an ambush, their squadron leader – who was just a voice on the programme – got hit by a mortar and they had to figure out what to do without orders.

Part of Neil knew it was fake and that they were not going to kill him. If he set off a land mine, he heard the explosion and had to pretend to fall over dead. But in other ways, it felt pretty real in there. The enemy soldiers dressed in Peacekeepers’ uniforms, the confusion of a smoke bomb. Neil, Andrew, Seth and Jean were the only ones who got their masks on in time. The rest of the squad got knocked out for ten minutes. And the supposedly harmless gas Neil had taken a few lungfuls of gave him a wicked headache for the rest of the day.

Laila and her crew taped the four of them on the firing range. Neil knew Dan, Matt, Renee and Jeremy were being filmed as well. It was part of a new propos series to show the rebels preparing for the Capitol invasion.

Just a few days before the first troops were to move out, destination the Capitol, Niobe unexpectedly told Neil and the other three she had recommended them for the exam, and they were to report immediately.

There were four parts: an obstacle course that assessed the physical condition, a written tactics exam, a test of weapon proficiency, and a simulated combat situation in the Block. Neil didn’t even have time to get nervous for the first three and did rather well, but there was a backlog at the Block. Some kind of technical bug they were working out. A group of other examinees exchanged information with Neil’s team.

That much seemed true. They went through alone. There was no predicting what situation they would be thrown into. One boy said, under his breath, that he had heard it’s designed to target each individual’s weaknesses.

Neil’s eyes flickered towards Andrew. The number of weaknesses had doubled for him in the last year, if not more. Aside from Andrew, his father and his friends, he also had to consider his lack of physical brute force, a bare minimum of training – even if he had eight years of practical knowledge – and also his standout status as the rebellion’s face which didn’t seem to be an advantage in a situation where they were trying to get soldiers to blend into a pack.

Seth, Jean and Andrew were called in that order before Neil. He gave the first two a nod of encouragement and clutched Andrew’s sleeve as he turned to head in. Andrew only glanced at him, but in the very last moment he brushed with his fingers over Neil’s cheek.

Neil wished he had been at the top of the list because now he was really overthinking the whole thing. By the time his name was called, he didn’t know what his strategy should be. Instinct and improvisation it was then.

Fortunately, once he was in the Block, a certain amount of training did kick in. It was an ambush situation. Peacekeepers appeared almost instantly and Neil had to make way to a rendezvous point to meet up with his scattered squad.

Slowly, he navigated the street, taking out Peacekeepers as he went. Two on the rooftop to his left, another in the doorway up ahead. It was challenging, but not as hard as he had been expecting. There was a nagging feeling that if it was too simple, he must be missing the point.

He was within a couple of buildings from his goal when things started to heat up. A half dozen Peacekeepers came charging around the corner. They would outgun him, but Neil noticed something. A drum of petrol lying carelessly in the gutter. That was it. His test. To perceive that blowing up the drum would be the only way to achieve his mission.

Just as Neil stepped out to do it, his squadron leader, who had been fairly useless up to this point, quietly ordered Neil to hit the ground. Every instinct Neil had screamed for him to ignore the voice, to pull the trigger, to blow the Peacekeepers sky-high. And suddenly, he realized what the military thought his biggest weakness was. From his very first moment in the Games, to the firefight in 8, to the impulsive race across the square in 2. His stubborn negotiating for Andrew’s rescue.

Neil could not take orders.

He smacked into the ground so hard and fast, he would be picking gravel out of his chin for a week. Someone else blew the petrol tank. The Peacekeepers died. Neil made his rendezvous point. When he exited the Block on the far side, a soldier congratulated him, stamped his hand with squad 194 and told him to report to Command.

It felt odd to walk the way down to Command on his own. He had no idea whether the others – Andrew – had made it. When he entered, Rhemann smiled at him. “Let’s see it.”

A little unsure, Neil held out his stamped hand. Rhemann nodded. “You’re with me. It’s a special unit of sharpshooters. Join your squad.” He pointed with his thumb over at a group lining the wall.

Andrew. Matt. Dan. Jeremy. Seth. Renee. Niobe. Riker. His squad. Neil was not only in, he got to work under Rhemann. With his friends.

Kevin stood over a wide, flat panel in the center of the table. He was explaining something about the nature of what they would encounter in the Capitol. He hit a button and a holographic image of a block of the Capitol projected into the air.

“This, for example, is the area surrounding one of the Peacekeepers’ barracks. Not unimportant, but not the most crucial of targets, and yet look.” Kevin entered a code on a keyboard, and lights began to flash. They were in an assortment of colors and blinked at different speeds. “Each light is called a pod. It represents a different obstacle, the nature of which could be anything from a bomb to a band of mutts. Whatever it contains is designed to either trap or kill you. Some have been in place since the Dark Days, others developed over the years. A fair number of them created by…” Kevin trailed off and looked over to Neil. “By the Butcher.” Neil sighed. Of course.

“This program,” Kevin continued, “which one of our people absconded with when we left the Capitol, is our most recent information. They don’t know we have it. But even so, it’s likely that new pods have been activated in the last few months. This is what you will face.”

Neil couldn’t help but move closer until he was centimeters from the holograph. His hand reached in and cupped a rapidly blinking green light. Left and right to him, Renee and Andrew joined him. Seth, Niobe, Dan and Matt had to see it, too. And Kevin. It was the arena. Laced with pods controlled by Gamemakers. By Riko.

“Well,” Seth said with a grin, but his voice was dripping with contempt. “Let the thirty-sixth Hunger Games begin.”

Neil huffed. “I don’t even know why you bothered putting us through any training, Kevin.”

“Yeah, we’re already the seven best-equipped soldiers you have,” Matt added with a grin.

“Do not think that fact escapes me,” Kevin said with an impatient wave. “Now back in line, Soldiers Boyd and Josten. I have a presentation to finish.”

Neil rolled his eyes and Matt made a mocking salute while Dan snickered. Kevin continued and finished without further interruptions. The meeting was adjourned and everyone was allowed to leave.

In the hall, Wymack intercepted them. He hadn’t been at the meeting, wasn’t thinking of an arena but something else. “Jean’s back in the hospital.”

Neil had assumed Jean had been fine, had passed his exam, but simply hadn’t been assigned to the sharpshooters’ unit. Jeremy and Renee were immediately alerted. “Is he hurt? What happened?”

“It was while he was on the Block. They try to ferret out a soldier’s potential weakness. So they flooded the street,” said Wymack.

That didn’t help. Jean could swim. In fact, water was his element.

“So?” Matt asked confused.

Wymack looked over to Andrew and Seth who both had their arms crossed. Andrew seemed indifferent, but Seth clicked impatiently with his tongue. After a moment he shrugged aggressively and said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “That’s how they tortured him in the Capitol. Soaked him and then used electric shocks.”

Wymack nodded along. “In the Block he had some kind of flashback. Panicked, didn’t know where he was. He’s back under sedation.”

They all just stood there, as if they had lost the ability to respond. Neil thought of the way Jean never showered. How he had forced himself into the rain like it had been acid that day. The way he had stared at the river in 12, paralyzed with what had been fear. And, how he had grown up in District 4. The water his home, the place he had felt safe. And they had taken that from him. Neil thought he would suffocate on his anger right then. A bullet in the head was no longer enough for Riko, he should be ripped into pieces.

“You should go see him,” Wymack said. “Not all at once. But maybe you four first.” He pointed at Renee, Jeremy, Neil and Andrew. “I’ll go and tell Kevin.”

Renee and Jeremy went directly down to see Jean, but Neil lingered outside a few more minutes, with Andrew not leaving his side, until Rhemann came out. He was Neil’s commander now, so Neil guessed he was the one to ask for any special favors. When Neil told him what he wanted to do, he wrote both Neil and Andrew a pass so that they could go to the woods during Reflection, provided that they wouldn’t wander off too far.

In their compartment, Neil found a sturdy, white cotton scrap of clothing and pocketed it.

“You really should stop burdening yourself with other people’s problems,” Andrew said as they walked through the forest. It was cold and the sun was already setting.

“Look who’s talking,” Neil shot back. “You can’t stop carrying my problems around with you.”

“That’s because you haven’t stopped being interesting yet. As for now, your problems are slightly more interesting than anything else.”

Neil shook his head. “I know what it feels like when your home is ripped from you. Jean has nothing left. And Kevin can only give him so much in return.”

After ten minutes, Neil found the pond he had spent so much time at during his hunting trips. He was lucky, a water lily grew close enough to the shore that he could reach it without getting wet. He placed the lily in the middle of the cloth, gathered up the sides, gave them a twist and tied them tightly with a length of vine, making an apple-sized bundle.

At the hospital, they ran into Betsy who had just come from Jean’s room. Neil left Andrew behind with her and stopped in the doorway where he watched Jean for a moment. His wide-set eyes were fighting to stay awake against the power of the drugs. Terrified of what sleep would bring. Neil crossed to him and held out the bundle.

“What’s that?” Jean asked hoarsely. Damp edges of his black hair formed little spikes over his forehead.

“I made it for you. Something to remind you of home.” Neil placed it in his hands. “Smell it.”

Jean lifted the bundle to his nose and took a tentative sniff. “Oh,” he whispered and smelled it again. “Water lily. They grow all around 4. My sister loves them.”

Neil nodded. “I noticed when I was there. Thought you might need something to remind you why you’re doing all of this.”

For a moment, Jean eye’s cleared up and a hard edge settled in them. “I don’t know how many times I wished for my death. But right now, all I want is for him to die. You have to kill him.”

That was beyond debate. “He’s trapped like the rat he is. There’s no way for him to go.”

Jean pressed the bundle with the water lily to his nose and closed his eyes.

In front of the room Andrew waited for him. “Where is your little sniffing bag, fox boy?” he asked, probably making fun of Neil for being so sentimental. It was hard to tell by his flat tone and bored expression, though.

Without looking at Andrew, Neil lifted his hand to tug at Andrew’s shirt.

“It’s right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen,,, don't hurt me because of Jean. I did all of this to him so he wouldn't have to go to the Capitol and... you know... DIE!  
> Also, of course I had to include the Shower Scene™.


	26. The Assassin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize! I was hit with the infamous writer block and spent the last ten days watching documentaries instead of writing a single word. But I got over it and managed to finish this chapter in two days haha  
> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos, I know I didn't answer them :( I was just really... tired. I read them all and cried a little tho♥ I am back now, ready to finish this thing!

The remaining days went by in a whirl. After a brief workout each morning, Neil’s squad was on the shooting range full-time in training. Neil practiced mostly with a gun, even though he had used it more often than a bow in the past few years. Rhemann only reserved an hour a day for specialty weapons, which meant Neil got to use his bow, Andrew and Renee their knives, Dan her axes and Matt and Seth their swords. The swords Janie had designed for them had a lot of special features, but the most remarkable was that they could throw it, press a button on a metal cuff on their wrists, and return them to their hand without chasing it down.

Sometimes they shot at Peacekeeper dummies to become familiar with the weaknesses in their protective gear. The chinks in the armor, so to speak. If they hit flesh, they were rewarded with a burst of fake blood. Their dummies were always soaked in blood.

Neil was somewhat puzzled that Rhemann called them a sharpshooter unit since Dan, Seth and Matt were anything but. They weren’t bad shots, just not on the same level as him or the woman called Riker who was Rhemann’s second in command and could hit things the rest of them couldn’t even see without a scope. Farsighted, she said. Neil didn’t fully understand their status until the morning Kevin joined them.

“Squad One-Nine-Four, you have been selected for a special mission,” he began. Neil bit the inside of his lip, hoping against hope that it was to assassinate Moriyama family members. In particular, Riko. “We have numerous sharpshooters, but rather a dearth of camera crews. Therefore, we’ve hand-picked the ten of you to be what we call the ‘Star Squad’. You will be the on-screen faces of the invasion.”

Disappointment, shock, then anger ran through the group. “What you’re saying is, we won’t be in actual combat,” snapped Seth.

Kevin shot him an irritated look. “You will be in combat, just not always on the front line.”

“None of us wants that.” Dan’s remark was followed by a general rumble of assent, but Neil stayed silent. “We’re going to fight.”

“You’re going to be as useful to the war effort as possible,” Kevin said annoyed. “And it’s been decided that you are of most value on television. Just look at the effect Neil had running around for the cameras. Turned the whole rebellion around. Do you notice how he’s the only one not complaining? It’s because he understands the power of that screen.”

Actually, Neil wasn’t complaining because he had no intention of staying with the ‘Star Squad’, but he recognized the necessity of getting to the Capitol before carrying out any plan. Still, to be too compliant may arouse suspicion as well.

“It’s not all pretend, is it?” he asked. “That’d be a waste of talent.”

“Don’t worry,” Kevin told him. “You’ll have plenty of real targets to hit. But don’t get blown up. I’ve got enough on my plate without having to replace you. Now go to the Capitol and put on a good show.”

 

The morning they shipped out, Neil and Andrew said goodbye to Andrew’s family. They hadn’t told Nicky and Aaron how much the Capitol’s defenses mirrored the weapons in the arena, but them going off to war was awful enough for Nicky. He held Neil tightly for a long time, and Neil could feel tears on his cheek where Nicky was pressed to him. “Don’t worry. We’ll be perfectly safe. We’re not even real soldiers. Just one of Kevin’s televised puppets,” he reassured Nicky awkwardly. After another minute, Andrew shoved Nicky from Neil and told him to get his shit together.

Aaron walked them as far as the hospital doors. The twins barely acknowledged each other right up until the point Andrew and Neil headed for the elevator. That was when Aaron called after Andrew, “I want that book back, just so you know.”

He referred to the novel in Andrew’s hand which Andrew had gotten from his brother earlier. Reading material for the journey to the Capitol. Andrew didn’t turn around, but he replied in his bored voice, “You won’t even miss this garbage. Whatever.”

After another few farewells from Abby, Wymack, Allison and Roland, they made their way to the Hangar. A hovercraft took them to, of all places, 12, where a makeshift transportation area had been set up outside the fire zone. No luxury trains this time, but a cargo car packed to the limit with soldiers in their black uniforms, sleeping with their heads on their packs. Neil managed to get a place against the wall and served as a shield for Andrew from the other passengers. Andrew seemed less than impressed by this act of protection, but he also didn’t complain.

After a couple of days’ travel – in which Neil missed the privacy of his quarters in 13 sorely, and not only because he couldn’t stop thinking about trading kisses and touches, but also because there was no moment of peace and quiet which grated on his nerves – they disembarked inside one of the mountain tunnels leading to the Capitol. The rest of the six-hour trek was made on foot, following a glowing green paint line that marked safe passage to the air above.

They came out in the rebel encampment, a ten-block stretch outside the train station where Andrew and Neil had made their previous arrivals. It was already crawling with soldiers. Squad 194 was assigned a spot to pitch its tents. This area had been secured for over a week. Rebels had pushed out the Peacekeepers, losing hundreds of lives in the process. The Capitol forces had fallen back and had regrouped further into the city. Between them lay the booby-trapped streets, empty and inviting. Each one would need to be swept of pods before the rebels could advance.

Jeremy asked about hoverplane bombings – everyone felt very naked pitched out in the open – but Rhemann said it wasn’t an issue. Most of the Capitol’s air fleet had been destroyed in 2 or during the invasion. If it had any craft left, it was holding on to them. Probably so Ichirou and his inner circle could make a last-minute escape to some presidential bunker somewhere if needed. 13’s own hoverplanes had been grounded after the Capitol’s missile assault. This war would be battled out on the streets with, hopefully, only superficial damage to the infrastructure and a minimum of human casualties. The rebels wanted the Capitol, just as the Capitol had wanted 13.

The first night was a literal nightmare. Neil shared his tent with Andrew, and after a quick make-out session that left Neil with a pleasant buzz and soft arousal that was ignored since both men were too tired to act on it, they fell asleep pretty quickly. The nightmares were to be expected but still hit Neil unprepared. In the last few weeks they had receded, and Neil had foolishly gotten used to calm nights, spared of any terror.

When he woke he thought he was back with his mother, running from his father who had hunted him in his dreams. His hand that wanted to grab for the gun under his pillow, hit Andrew’s arm instead. Neil barely avoided a fist aimed at him, and for a moment there was only heavy breathing in the dark of the tent until Andrew turned his flashlight on. They didn’t talk when they both crawled out to share a cigarette in the cold October air. Over the bonfire in the middle of their circular arranged tents they spotted Seth, lighting his own cigarette.

After three days and three sleepless nights, much of Squad 194 risked deserting out of boredom. Laila and her team took shots of them firing. The squad was told they were part of the disinformation team. If the rebels only shot Kevin’s pods, it would take the Capitol about two minutes to realize they had the holograph. So there was a lot of time spent shattering things that didn’t matter, to throw them off the scent. Mostly they just added to the piles of rainbow glass that had been blown off the exteriors of the candy-colored buildings. Neil suspected Kevin and his people were intercutting this footage with the destruction of significant Capitol targets.

Once in a while it seemed a real sharpshooter’s services were needed, though. Nine hands went up, but Neil was never chosen.

“It’s your own fault for being the face of our squad. They can’t risk anything happening to something pretty like that,” Matt said with a grin. Neil’s scowl amused him and the others even more. Sometimes, in the nights when Neil felt Andrew’s stubble scraping over the insides of his thighs and he had to bite on his jacket sleeve to muffle the noises escaping his mouth, he wondered what his face between Andrew’s legs would feel like. For now, Andrew sometimes let Neil touch him while he got off. His back, his shoulders, the length of his arms and his face. Always fully clothed, only the armbands discarded somewhere in the tent. That was fine with Neil; he didn’t mind being in various states of nudity in front of Andrew, in fact he enjoyed it. But since there wasn’t anything else to do, his fantasy ran wild.

The days passed in uneventful cycles. Neil didn’t think Kevin and Whittier knew what to do with him and Andrew. Neil had his official rebellion costume with him, but he had only been taped in the universal black uniform like everyone else. Sometimes he used a gun, sometimes Laila asked him to shoot with his bow and arrows. It was as if they didn’t want to entirely lose the symbol-of-the-rebellion theme, but they wanted to downgrade Neil’s role to foot soldier. Since Neil didn’t care one way or another, actually preferred blending in with the rest of the squad, he accepted his duty as a passive bystander most of the time.

While he outwardly expressed his discontent about the squad’s lack of real participation, Neil was busy with his own agenda. Each of them had a paper map of the Capitol. The city formed an almost perfect square. Lines divided the map into smaller squares, with letters along the top and numbers down the side to form a grid. Neil consumed this, noting every intersection and side street, but it was only remedial stuff. The commanders here were working off Kevin’s holograph. Each had a handheld contraption called a Holo that produced images like Neil had seen in Command. They could zoom into any area of the grid and see what pods awaited them. The Holo was an independent unit, a glorified map really, since it could neither send nor receive signals. But it was far superior to Neil’s paper version.

A Holo was activated by a specific commander’s voice giving their name. Once it was working, it responded to the other voices in the squadron so if, say, Rhemann were killed or severely disabled, someone could take over. If anyone in the squad repeated “foxbite” three times in a row, the Holo would explode, blowing up everything in a five-meter radius. This was for security reasons in the event of capture.

So what Neil needed to do was steal Rhemann’s activated Holo and clear out before he noticed. But as far as Neil was concerned, it would be easier to steal the commander’s teeth.

One morning, after one week of scheming, Neil hit a mislabeled pod and almost died in the process. It didn’t unleash a swarm of muttation gnats, which everyone had prepared for, but shot out a sunburst of metal darts. Andrew pulled him back, almost strangled Neil doing so, and a dart that could have easily found its way in Neil’s brain scraped relatively harmlessly over his right eyebrow, slicing the skin and covering his face in blood. When he hit the ground and the air was knocked out of him, he thought he was back in the arena. Raven Girl straddling and taunting him. It took three of his friends to make him stop thrashing around and another few hours to calm down.

In the evening Neil received a call from an angry Wymack.

“Do Whittier and Kevin want me dead now?” Neil asked. Unmarked pods were one thing, but mislabeled ones had never occurred before. And of all people he had to encounter the only one.

“Kevin says it was to be expected something like this could happen,” Wymack said. Not really answering Neil’s question, but Neil could imagine him confronting Whittier who would have denied such plans. But it made sense, at least from the president’s point of view. Neil was no longer needed as the rallying point. His primary objective had been to unite the districts which had succeeded. The current propos could be easily done without him, and there was only one last thing he could do to add fire to the rebellion.

Neil sighed. “As usual I am worth more dead than alive. I’m supposed to give you a martyr to fight for, right?”

Wymack scoffed at the other end. “You are overestimating yourself, kid. No such thing is going to happen on my or Rhemann’s watch. We are planning for you to have a long life.”

A long life. Something Neil would have never even dared to imagine a few months ago. “Why?” he asked. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Because you’ve earned it,” Wymack said. “Now get back to your squad and keep an eye on the other idiots.”

The sight of Rhemann upon his return gave Neil a queasy feeling. To think he had said such things and talked to Wymack about a future for him was really frustrating. How could he steal his Holo and desert now? Betraying him had been complicated enough without this whole new layer of debt. Neil already owed him for getting Andrew out.

The disgruntled expression on Neil’s face didn’t escape Andrew when he flopped down beside him on the remains of what once had been a bright green and blue wall. Andrew smoked and watched the others attending to their businesses. He ignored Neil for a while until Neil stole the cigarette right from between his lips and took a shallow drag.

“Trouble making a plan to run again?” he asked. “Seems like a paper map is not enough.”

Neil bit his lip. Of course Andrew hadn’t missed his preparations. Hopefully, it hadn’t been so obvious to the others. None of them knew his mind like Andrew did, though.

“I’m not running. I intend to come back,” Neil said.

Andrew stole his cigarette back, and without taking his eyes off Alvarez and Renee laughing about something, said, “We.”

“What?”

“Don’t be stupid. You alone sneaking around here?” Finally he looked at Neil. “You can’t even disable a simple trap without getting killed. Someone has to save your idiotic ass from certain death.”

Neil’s heart made an excited jump, and he felt warmth pool in his gut. He had thought about asking Andrew along; if he could trust someone to watch his back without question, it was him. But since nothing had worked out for him up until now, he had deferred from making an actual move. “You would really miss my ass, wouldn’t you? I know when you stare at it,” he said with a smile.

“Stupid and delusional is an unfavorable combination. You should really get your brain checked.”

In spite of his words, Neil felt Andrew’s rough hands groping down his backside and finding their way far below the waistband of his underwear that night. He grinned against Andrew’s neck, but kept quiet. He wouldn’t put it past Andrew to just stop so he could prove a point. He was undeniably childish like that.

The next afternoon, they were notified that the whole squad was needed to stage a fairly complicated propo. Apparently, Kevin and Whittier were unhappy with the quality of footage they were getting from the Star Squad. “Very dull” and “very uninspiring” as Kevin had told them in his blunt and infuriating fashion. The obvious response to that was that they never let them do anything but play-act with their guns. However, it wasn’t about them defending themselves, and more about coming up with a usable product. So today, a special block had been set aside for filming. It even had a couple of active pods in it. One unleashed a spray of gunfire. The other netted the invader and trapped them for either interrogation or execution, depending on the captor’s preference. But it was still an unimportant residential block with nothing of strategic consequences.

The television crew meant to provide a sense of heightened jeopardy by releasing smoke bombs and adding gunfire sound effects. Neil and the others suited up in heavy protective gear, even the crew, as if they were heading into the heart of the battle. Those who had specialty weapons were allowed to take them along with their guns.

As they crunched through the streets of broken glass to reach their target block, Neil fell a little back with Andrew to get some sense of privacy.

“So, tomorrow is your birthday,” he started conversationally. Andrew shot him a suspicious look. “Any particular wishes?”

“No.” The answer was immediate and final. Andrew didn’t want to talk about it, but Neil could feel there was some room to poke around without overstepping any boundaries.

“I could come up with something, you know. Because I’d like to… I don’t know. Appreciate the day you were born. Or something.”

“Then appreciate it quietly and without me.”

Neil sighed. “Fine.” They walked for another two minutes in silence before Neil dared a bolder approach. He cleared his throat and said in a low voice, “We could do something special, though.”

It seemed Andrew was ignoring him until he noticed the twitch around the corner of Neil’s mouth and the glance directed at his fly. “Special,” he repeated flatly.

“Special,” Neil confirmed with a grin and an excited nod.

“We already did something special last night if I’m not mistaken. I seem to recall a lot of special occasions, actually.” Andrew was very much unimpressed by Neil’s suggestion but that didn’t discourage Neil. He hadn’t said no and that he even humored Neil by answering him meant that he was at least intrigued.

With his arms folded behind his head, Neil shrugged. “Think of something. You know where I stand. I would give you everything.”

“Except when you don’t.” The glare was a lot more vicious than Andrew probably intended it to be. Neil smiled.

“Except when I don’t.”

It took them a while to find their way through all of the rubble, but once they had managed, they gathered around Rhemann to examine the Holo projection of the street. The gunfire pod was positioned about a third of the way down, just above an apartment awning. They should be able to trigger it with bullets. The net pod was at the far end, almost to the next corner. This would require someone to set off the body sensor mechanism. Everyone volunteered except Andrew, who appeared to be mentally somewhere else. Neil didn’t get picked. He got sent to Alvarez, who wiped the dirt from his face for the anticipated close-ups.

The squad positioned itself under Rhemann’s direction, and then they had to wait for Laila to get the cameramen in place as well. They were both to their left, with Darius towards the front and Atos bringing up the rear so they would be sure not to record each other. Alvarez set off a couple of smoke charges for atmosphere, and Laila called “Action!”

They slowly proceeded down the hazy street, just like one of the exercises in the Block. Everyone had at least one section of windows to blow out, but Matt had been assigned the real target. When he hit the pod, they took cover – ducking into doorways or flattening onto the shiny, light orange and pink paving stones – as a hail of bullets swept back and forth over their heads. After a while, Rhemann ordered them forward.

Laila stopped them before they could rise, since she needed some close-up shots. Everyone took turns re-enacting their individual responses. Falling to the ground, grimacing, diving into alcoves. They all were aware that it was supposed to be serious business, but the whole thing just felt ridiculous. Especially when it turned out that Neil wasn’t even the worst actor in the squad. Not by a long shot. Neil and the others had to laugh hard at Matt’s attempt to project his idea of desperation, which involved teeth grinding and nostrils flaring. The situation was so out of control that Rhemann had to reprimand them.

“Pull it together, One-Nine-Four,” he said firmly. But he couldn’t hide the smile as he was double-checking the next pod. He was positioning the Holo to find the best light in the smoky air, still facing his squad as his left foot stepped back on an orange paving stone. And triggered the bomb that blew off his legs. 

It was as if in an instant, a painted window shattered, revealing the ugly world behind it. Laughter turned to screams, blood stained pastel stones; real smoke darkened the special effect one.

A second explosion seemed to split the air and left Neil’s ears ringing. But he couldn’t make out where it had come from.

He was the first to reach Rhemann, trying to make sense of the torn flesh, missing limbs, finding something to stem the red flow from his body. Jeremy pushed him aside, wrenching open a first-aid kit. Rhemann clutched Neil’s wrist, his face, gray with dying and ash, seemed to be receding. His words were an order, though. “The Holo.”

The Holo. Neil scrambled around, digging through chunks of tile slick with blood, shuddering when he encountered bits of warm flesh. He found it rammed into a stairwell with one of Rhemann’s boots. He retrieved it, wiping it clean with bare hands as he returned to his commander.

Jeremy had the stump of Rhemann’s left thigh cupped by some sort of compression bandage, but it was already soaked through. He was trying to tourniquet the other above the existing knee. The rest of the squad had gathered in a protective formation around the crew and Neil with Rhemann and Jeremy on the ground. Andrew was instantly by Neil’s side, patting him down for any injuries and when he couldn’t find any he let go with shaking fists. Renee and Dan attempted to revive Alvarez, who had been thrown into a wall by the explosion. Riker was barking into a field communicator in an unsuccessful attempt to alert the camp to send medics, but Neil knew it was too late. His mother’s ashen face flashed through his mind, desperately clawing at nothing. He knew how someone who was dying looked.

Neil kneeled beside Rhemann, unsure what he was supposed to do. Rhemann was busy working the Holo, typing in a command, pressing his thumb to the screen for print recognition, speaking a string of letters and numbers in response to a prompt. A green shaft of light burst out of the Holo and illuminated his face. “Unfit for command. Transfer of prime security clearance to Squad One-Nine-Four Soldier Neil Josten.” His hands were shaking when he turned the Holo towards Neil’s face. “Say your name.”

“Neil Josten,” Neil said into the green shaft. Suddenly, it had him trapped in its green light. He couldn’t move or even blink as images flickered rapidly before him. What was happening? Neil panicked, but the light vanished shortly after, and he shook his head to clear it. “What did you do?”

“Prepare to retreat!” Riker yelled.

Seth was calling something back, gesturing to the end of the block where they had entered. Black, oily matter spouted like a geyser from the street, billowing between the buildings, creating an impenetrable wall of darkness. It was neither liquid nor gas, mechanical nor natural. Surely it was lethal. There was no heading back the way they had come.

There was deafening gunfire as Matt and Niobe began to blast a path across the stones towards the far end of the block. Neil didn’t know what they were doing until another bomb, ten meters away, detonated, opening a hole in the street. A rudimentary attempt at minesweeping.

Jeremy and Neil latched on to Rhemann and started to drag him after Matt. Behind him, he could hear Andrew. Something happened, and Matt cried out in pain. Neil wanted to stop, to find a better way, but the blackness was rising above the buildings, swelling, rolling at them like a wave.

Despite his better judgment, Neil turned his head to call out for Andrew, who he couldn’t sense close by anymore. He gagged on the smell of the blackness, thick, tar like. The wave had crested and begun to fall.

Matt and Niobe shot through the front door lock of a corner building. Together they dragged Rhemann inside, through someone’s pink and white velvet living room, down a hallway hung with family photos, onto the marble floor of a kitchen, where they collapsed. Atos and Darius helped a breathless Alvarez in, and Neil’s eyes darted around for Andrew and his friends.

In the living room, the front door slammed, people shouted. Then footsteps pounded down the hall as the black wave roared past the building. From the kitchen, Neil could hear the windows groan and shatter. The noxious tar smell polluted the air. Seth, Riker and Dan stumbled into the room, coughing. Followed by Laila and Andrew.

Renee was the last, slamming the kitchen door shut behind her, choking out one word. “Fumes.” Dan and Matt grabbed towels and aprons and wetted them to stuff in the cracks.

Rhemann forced the Holo into Neil’s hand. His lips were moving, but Neil couldn’t make out what he was saying. He leaned his ear down to his mouth to catch his harsh whisper. “Do what you came to do. Kill them all. And live.”

Neil drew back so he could see his face. “What?” Wymack’s words echoed in Neil’s head.  _ Because you’ve earned it. _ Rhemann’s eyes were still open, but dead. Pressed in Neil’s hand, glued to it by his blood, was the Holo.

“He’s gone?” Seth asked, looking down at Rhemann. Neil nodded. “We need to get out of here. We just set off a streetful of pods. You can bet they’ve got us on surveillance tapes.”

“Count on it,” Darius said. “All the streets are covered by surveillance cameras. I bet they set off the black wave manually when they saw us taping the propo.”

“Our radio communicators went dead almost immediately. Probably an electromagnetic pulse device. But I’ll get us back to camp. Give me the Holo.” Riker reached for the unit, but Neil clutched it to his chest. “No. He gave it to me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. Of course, she thought it was hers. She was second in command.

“It’s true,” said Jeremy. He looked pale and had to force his eyes from his dead commander. “He transferred the prime security clearance to Neil while he was dying. I saw it.”

“Why would he do that?” demanded Riker.

Yes, why indeed? Neil’s head was reeling from the events of the last five minutes – Rhemann mutilated, dying, dead, everyone almost being swallowed by the foul black wave, Rhemann handing him of all people the Holo. To do what? Neil turned to the dead commander, then to Andrew and suddenly wished very badly for Wymack to be here. Or Kevin. Someone who knew what to do.

Since there was no time to work through his fear and confusion now, Neil decided to carry out at least the first two of Rhemann’s last orders.  _ Do what you came to do. Kill them all. _ Which essentially meant to move deeper into the Capitol.

But how was he supposed to justify this?

“Because I’m on a special mission for President Whittier. Rhemann was the only one who knew about it.” He paused before he added for the sake of plausibility, “And Andrew.”

Andrew’s face didn’t betray anything, and after a scrutinizing look, Riker asked, “To do what?” She was in no way convinced. Thankfully, Neil’s specialty was lying. And this time he was about to do it by actually telling them the truth. Only that it had to appear like a real mission, not some half-baked revenge plan. “To assassinate Riko and Ichirou Moriyama before the loss of life from this war makes our population unsustainable.”

“I don’t believe you,” Riker said. “As your current commander, I order you to transfer the prime security clearance over to me.”

“No.” Neil didn’t comply. “That would be in direct violation of President Whittier’s orders.”

Guns were pointed. Riker aimed at Neil’s head while Andrew pressed his own gun against her temple. “Drop it,” Andrew ordered. His voice was so icy it forced a shiver down Neil’s spine. Someone was about to die, when Laila spoke up. “It’s true. That’s why we’re here. Kevin wants it televised. He thinks if we can film the Butcher’s son and our rebellion leader assassinating the Moriyamas, it will end the war.”

That gave Riker a pause. Then she waved with her gun in front of Neil’s face. “What about Wesninski Senior?”

Neil swallowed against the lump in his throat. “It seemed ill-advised sending me after my father since I’m…” he trailed off, uncertain what to say.

“Since the people will want blood after the war. Retribution for the Butcher’s crimes and all that. He’s supposed to be captured alive for trial,” Andrew replied. Now he had even forced Andrew to lie for him. Neil wanted to ask Laila why she was lying for him, too. Why she was fighting for them to go on with Neil’s self-appointed mission. However, now was not the time.

“We have to go!” urged Dan. “I’m following Neil. If you don’t want to, head back to camp. But let’s move!”

Jeremy checked Alvarez for any injuries and when he came up clean he nodded. “Ready.”

“Rhemann?” Matt asked.

“We can’t take him. He’d understand,” said Renee.

Dan freed Rhemann’s gun from his shoulder and slung the strap over her own. “Lead on, Soldier Josten.”

Neil didn’t know how to lead on. He looked at the Holo for direction. It was still activated, but it might as well be dead for all the good that did him. There was no time for fiddling around with the buttons, trying to figure out how to work it. “I don’t know—” He was interrupted by Andrew who snatched the Holo from his hands and tapped in a command. An intersection came up. “If we go out the kitchen door, there’s a small courtyard, then the back side of another corner apartment unit. We’re looking at an overview of the four streets that meet at the intersection,” Renee explained from where she was looking over Andrew’s right shoulder.

Neil tried to get his bearings as he stared at the cross section of the map blinking with pods in every direction. And those were only the pods Kevin knew about. The Holo hadn’t indicated that the block they had just left had been mined, or the appearance of the black wave. Besides that, there may be Peacekeepers to deal with, now that they knew their position. Or worse. His father was surely on his way.

Biting the inside of his lip, Neil could feel everyone’s eyes on him. “Put on your masks. We’re going out the way we came in.”

Instant objections. Neil raised his voice over them. Not by much, he wasn’t really loud by nature, but something made the others listen. “If the wave was that powerful, then it may have triggered and absorbed other pods in our path.”

People stopped to consider this. Atos made a few quick signs to his brother. “It may have disabled the cameras as well,” Darius translated. “Coated the lenses.”

Seth propped one of his boots on the counter and examined the splatter of black on the toe. Scraped it with a kitchen knife from a block on the counter. “It’s not corrosive. Most likely meant to either suffocate or poison us.”

“Probably our best shot,” Matt said.

The masks were pulled on. Laila and Jeremy propped up a still woozy Alvarez between them. Neil was waiting for someone to take the point position when he remembered that was his job now. With an uneasy feeling, he pushed on the kitchen door and was met with no resistance. A centimeter thick layer of black goo had spread from the living room about three-quarters of the way down the hall. When Neil gingerly tested it with the toe of his boot, he found it had the consistency of a gel. He lifted his foot and after stretching slightly, it sprung back into place. After three steps into the gel and a look back, Neil noted that he left no footprints. The first good thing that had happened today. The gel became slightly thicker as he crossed the living room, and when he eased open the front door, Neil expected gallons of it to pour in, but it held its form.

The pink and orange block seemed to have been dipped in glossy black paint and set out to dry. Paving stones, buildings, even the rooftops were coated in the gel. Neil looked back to where Rhemann had lost his legs; he could still make out the vague shape of a boot in a wall not too far from his spot. He waited on the pavement, staring at the damage the bomb had caused until the entire group was with him.

“If anyone needs to go back, for whatever reason, now is the time,” Neil said. “No questions asked, no hard feelings.”

No one seemed inclined to retreat. So Neil started moving into the Capitol, knowing they hadn’t much time. The gel was deeper here, ten or twelve centimeters, and made a sucking sound each time he picked up his foot, but it still covered their tracks.

The wave must have been enormous, with tremendous power behind it, as it had affected several blocks that lay ahead. And though Neil treaded with care, he thought his assumption had been correct about it triggering other pods. One block was sprinkled with the golden bodies of tracker jackers. Set free only to succumb to the fumes. A little further along, an entire apartment building had collapsed and lied in a mound under the gel. Neil wanted to sprint across the intersections, but Andrew held him back. He went in Neil’s stead, holding up a hand for the others to wait while he checked for trouble, but the wave seemed to have dismantled the pods far better than any squad of rebels could have done.

“I should do that as the leader of the squad,” Neil said when he reached Andrew first. It was his responsibility, since he kind of had forced everyone along. Andrew’s reaction was a bored, “I don’t care.”

On the fifth block they finally reached the point where the wave had petered out. The gel was only two centimeters deep, and Neil could see baby blue rooftops peeking out across the next intersection. The afternoon light had faded, and they badly needed to get under cover and form a plan.

Neil chose an apartment two-thirds of the way down the block. Andrew jimmied the lock, and Neil told the others to go inside. He stayed with Andrew on the street for just a minute, watching the last of their footprints fade away, then closed the door behind them.

Flashlights built into their guns illuminated a large living room with mirrored walls that threw their faces back at every turn. Neil flinched away the first time and almost crashed into Andrew’s back. Matt checked the windows, which showed no damage and removed his mask. “It’s alright. You can smell it, but it’s not too strong.”

The apartment seemed to be laid out exactly like the first one they had taken refuge in. The gel blacked out any natural daylight in the front, but some light still slipped through the shutters in the kitchen. Along the hallway were two bedrooms with baths. A spiral staircase in the living room led up to an open space that composed much of the second floor. There were no windows upstairs, but the lights had been left on, probably by someone hastily evacuating. A huge television screen, blank but glowing softly, occupied one wall. Plush chairs and sofas were strewn around the room. That was where they congregated, slumped into upholstery, trying to catch their breath.

Andrew occupied a bright green chair with pink and yellow pillows. Neil settled to his feet, between his legs. He slung one arm around Andrew’s right calf and rested with his head against the inside of his thigh. Andrew didn’t seem to mind, Neil even felt fingers in his hair for a moment. It was only a short distraction, and just as the complexity of the mess Neil had dragged everybody into began to overload his brain – he couldn’t lead thirteen people through the Capitol on a pretend mission. Should he have sent them back when he had had the chance? – a distant chain of explosions sent a tremor through the room.

“It wasn’t close,” Niobe assured them. “A good four or five blocks away.”

“Where we left Rhemann,” said Jeremy.

Although no one had made a move towards it, the television flared to life, emitting a high-pitched beeping sound, bringing half of the squad to its feet.

“It’s alright!” called Laila. “It’s just an emergency broadcast. Every Capitol television is automatically activated for it.”

There they were on-screen, just after the bomb had taken out Rhemann. A voice-over told the audience what they were viewing as Squad 194 tried to regroup, reacted to the black wave appearing, lost control of the situation. They watched the chaos that followed until the wave blotted out the cameras. The last thing they saw was Renee, alone on the street, looking around to make sure everyone was inside.

The reporter identified Matt, Dan, Renee, Seth, Andrew, Niobe, Laila, Rhemann and Neil by name.

“There’s no aerial footage. Rhemann must have been right about their hovercraft capacity,” said Darius. Neil hadn’t notice this, but apparently that was the kind of thing a cameraman picked up on.

Coverage continued from the courtyard behind the apartment where they had taken shelter. Peacekeepers lined the roof across from their former hideout. Neil caught a flash of auburn hair and stopped breathing. His father looked terrifying in his pristine white uniform, hair casually tousled. Neil remembered the blood covering that uniform more than once in his childhood, and the image got mixed up with the memory of Andrew’s blood on white tiles. The other Peacekeepers all wore their helmets, but the movements of the smaller figure next to his father were as familiar as the smell and color of his childhood bedroom. Lola Malcolm made a gesture and shells were launched into the row of apartments, setting off the chain of explosions they had heard, and the building collapsed into rubble and dust.

Cut to a live feed. A reporter stood on the roof with Nathan Wesninski and Lola Malcolm – now without the helmet. Neil groaned, it was almost inaudible under the sound coming from the television, but Andrew noticed. A hand pressed down on Neil’s neck, but he could hardly feel it, eyes fixated on the pleasant smile of his father and the shining blonde hair and deep red lips of the woman next to him. Behind the reporter, the apartment block burned. Firefighters tried to control the blaze with water hoses. They were all pronounced dead.

“Finally, a bit of luck,” Jeremy said.

Neil guessed he was right. Certainly it was better than having his father in pursuit of them. But there was also the fact that this was playing back in 13. Where Wymack and Abby, Nicky and Aaron, Allison, Jean, Kevin, Roland and a whole lot of people thought they had just seen them die.

“Stop it,” Andrew whispered in Neil’s ear as the others watched the Capitol playing the footage over and over. When Neil wanted to answer he realized he had forgotten to breathe and his chest hurt when air was sucked in. The grip around Andrew’s leg strengthened and Neil pressed his cheek against the rough material of Andrew’s pants. He closed his eyes and could only nod when Andrew asked if he could touch him. He unfastened Neil’s vest, unzipped the jacket beneath and pressed his palm over Neil’s erratic heart.

The others didn’t notice since they were too occupied by a montage of Neil’s rise to rebel power – the few glimpses Neil caught of it when he opened his eyes for a few seconds made him think they had had this part prepared for a while, because it seemed pretty polished – and then a live show of a couple of reporters that discussed Neil’s well-deserved violent end. Later, they promised, Ichirou and Nathan would make an official statement. The screen faded back to a glow, and Neil felt steady enough for Andrew to remove his hand and put the jacket and vest back on.

The rebels had made no attempt to break in during the broadcast, which led Neil to believe they thought it was true. If that was so, they really were on their own.

“So, now that we’re dead, what’s our next move?” Dan asked.

They obviously waited for Neil’s instructions, which made Neil regret his decision to take them all along once again. He wished he could tell them all to return to the camp and continue alone with Andrew, Renee, Dan and Matt. But it was too late now, and the streets were probably swarming with his father’s people. He was tired, bone-deep exhausted actually, and he had to force himself to let go of Andrew. It wouldn’t leave a good impression if their supposed mission leader was clinging to someone else’s leg while panicking by the mere sight of his begetter.

Neil rubbed his eyes, still feeling the tingling sensation of Andrew’s pants scraping over his cheek. “Think we might find some food here?”

Besides the medical kit and cameras, they had nothing but their uniforms and weapons.

Half of the group stayed put to keep an eye out for Ichirou’s broadcast, while the others hunted for something to eat. Alvarez and Laila proved most valuable because they had lived in a near replica of this apartment and knew where people would most likely stash food. For example, there was a storage space concealed by a mirrored panel in the bedroom, or the ventilation screen in the hallway could be easily popped out. So even though the kitchen cupboards were bare, they found over thirty canned goods and several boxes of cookies.

The hoarding disgusted Riker, the only one raised in 13. “Isn’t this illegal?”

“On the contrary, in the Capitol you’d be considered stupid not to do so,” said Alvarez. “Even before the Anniversary Year, people were starting to stock up on scarce supplies.”

“While others went without,” Jeremy muttered.

“Right,” Alvarez said. “That’s how it works here.”

“Fortunately, or we wouldn’t have dinner.” Matt reached up for the food. “Everybody grab a can.”

They decided it was a waste of time to divvy up everything into thirteen equal parts. They would eat what they could get. Neil poked around in the pile and settled for some lamb stew. He returned to Andrew on the slightly offside chair and tossed him another can with stew. Neil popped open the top and blinked. “It even has dried plums.” He bent the lid and used it as a makeshift spoon, scooping a bit into his mouth.

They were passing around a box of fancy cream-filled cookies, Neil slipping his share to Andrew, when the beeping started again. The seal of Panem lit up on the screen and remained there while the anthem played. And then they began to show images of the dead, just as they had done with the tributes in the arena. A game. This was nothing but a game for them.

First, the four faces of the TV crew, followed by Rhemann, Matt, Dan, Seth, Niobe, Renee, Andrew and Neil. Jeremy and Riker were the only ones left out, either because the Capitol had no idea who they were or because they wouldn’t mean anything to the audience.

Then Ichirou himself appeared, seated at his desk, a flag draped behind him, attended by Neil’s father. Like a bodyguard he stood on Ichirou’s right side, arms crossed behind his back. Neil could feel the eyes of the squad on him. They probably saw the family resemblance. Like father like son. Lola’s taunting voice echoed through his head.  _ “You’ll be so good looking one day, Junior. Just like your Daddy. A little less baby fat and a few years of puberty and you may turn out to be amusing after all.” _

Ichirou congratulated the Peacekeepers on an exceptional job, honored them for ridding the country of the menace in the form of Nathaniel Wesninski. Then, Nathan took over. The sound of his voice was enough to turn Neil’s stomach to jelly. He felt weak, exposed.

With Neil’s – Nathaniel’s – death, Nathan predicted a turning of the tide in the war, since the demoralized rebels had no one left to follow. And what was Nathaniel, really? A poor, unstable boy with a small talent with a bow and arrow. Not a great thinker, not the mastermind of the rebellion, merely a face for a movement, simply because he had caught the nation’s attention with his antics in the Games. A disappointment. Since Nathaniel’s birth, Nathan said with his cool blue eyes looking straight into the camera, he had known that his son would never carry his legacy. Too deep his mother’s influence had reached. Too weak he had grown under her care. And yet, Nathaniel had been necessary, so very necessary, because the rebels had no real leader among them.

Somewhere in District 13, Janie hit a switch, and Nathan Wesninski was no longer looking at them, but President Whittier. He introduced himself to Panem, identified himself as the head of the rebellion, and then gave Neil’s eulogy. Praise for the boy who had survived the Butcher and the Hunger Games, then had turned a country of slaves into an army of freedom fighters. “Dead or alive, Neil Josten will remain the face of this rebellion. If ever you waver in your resolve, think of him, and in him you will find the strength you need to rid Panem of its oppressors.”

“I had no idea you meant so much to him,” Andrew said dead-panned, which forced a choked laugh from Neil. He felt hysterical, like he had entered an alternative reality with his father telling the world what a huge mistake he had been, and the rebels showing a heavily doctored photo of him looking fierce with a bunch of flames flickering behind him on screen. No words. No slogan. His face was all they needed now.

Janie gave the reins back to a very controlled Ichirou and Nathan. Neil had the feeling the president had thought the emergency channel to be impenetrable, and someone would end up dead tonight because it had been breached.

Nathan continued, voice sharp and cutting deep. “Tomorrow morning, when we pull Nathaniel’s body from the ashes, we will see exactly who he is. A dead boy who could save no one, not even himself.” Seal, anthem, and out.

“Except that you won’t find him,” Matt growled to the empty screen. The grace period would be brief. Once they dug through those ashes and came up missing thirteen bodies, they would know they had escaped.

“We can get a head start on them at least,” Neil said. His tone lacked the much needed conviction, though. All he wanted was to lie down and go to sleep. He felt overwhelmed by his father’s appearance. Hypersensitive and edging closer to the abyss with all of the things he could do to Neil. Nathaniel. Neil.

Weirdly enough, it was Seth who broke the tension building inside him. “I always thought my parents were fucked up. Explains a lot about you, though, Wesninski. Or Josten. Whatever.”

Dan groaned loudly. “Seriously, Seth? Shut the fuck up.” Worried, Matt reached out and patted Neil’s hand lightly. “We’re here for you, man, okay? If you want—”

“I’m fine.” The subject was already uncomfortable enough without a bunch of half strangers listening. He may trust everyone here enough to partly entrust them his back, but they weren’t Andrew, or Matt, or Dan, or Renee.

Matt and Dan exchanged a pointed glance and Andrew kicked him in the back. Renee intervened quickly. “Let’s make a plan. We have to use our advantage as long as possible.”

Neil nodded and pulled out the Holo. He stared at it for a moment before Andrew took it from his hand and talked Neil through the most basic commands while the others sorted their equipment out.

“How do you know how this thing works?” Neil asked quietly.

Andrew shot him a dry glance. “You planned on stealing it, but didn’t even pay attention to Rhemann operating it? That’s why no one ever lets you make the plans.”

“You’re following my plan right now, though,” Neil replied, puzzled.

Apparently, the conversation was over since Andrew didn’t reply and instead showed him how to enter the coordinates of the nearest map grid intersection. As the Holo projected their surroundings, Neil felt his heart sink. They must be moving closer to crucial targets, because the number of pods had noticeably increased. How could they possibly move forward into this bouquet of blinking lights without detection? They couldn’t. And if they couldn’t, they were trapped like birds in a net.

Neil’s headache increased, and he knew he was so very close to just leaning against Andrew’s plush chair and closing his eyes to sleep for a year. He raked through his dusty hair and turned towards the others. “Any ideas?”

“Why don’t we start by ruling out possibilities,” Renee suggested. “The streets are not an option.”

“The rooftops are just as bad as the streets,” Jeremy remarked.

“We still might have a chance to withdraw, go back the way we came,” said Matt. “But that would mean a failed mission.”

A pang of guilt hit Neil since he had fabricated said mission. “It was never intended for all of us to go forward. You just had the misfortune to be with me.”

Riker shook her head. “Well, that’s a moot point. We’re with you now. So, we can’t stay put. We can’t move up. We can’t move laterally. I think that just leaves one option.”

“Underground,” said Dan.

The Holo could show subterranean as well as street-level pods. Neil saw that when they went underground the clean, dependable lines of the street plan were interlaced with a twisting, turning mess of tunnels. The pods looked less numerous, though. So underground it was.

Two doors down the hall, a vertical tube connected their row of apartments to the tunnels. To reach the tube apartment, they would have to squeeze through a maintenance shaft that ran the length of the building. They could enter the shaft through the back of a closet space on the upper floor.

“Okay, then. Let’s make it look like we’ve never been here,” Neil said, going over his mother’s checklist in his head. They erased all signs of their stay by sending the empty cans down a trash chute, pocketing the full ones for later, flipping sofa cushions smeared with blood, wiping traces of gel from the tiles. There was no fixing the latch on the front door, but Neil locked a second bolt, which would at least keep the door from swinging open on contact.

When Seth prized open the small metal door to the maintenance shaft, they encountered another problem. There was no way the insect-like camera shells Atos and Darius carried on their backs would be able to fit through the narrow passage. They had to remove them and detach emergency backup cameras. Each was the size of a shoe box and probably worked about as well. Alvarez couldn’t think of anywhere better to hide the bulky shells so they ended up dumping them in the closet. Leaving such an easy trail to follow frustrated Neil, but what else could they do? His mother would have abandoned the two by now, but Neil was not her.

Even going single file, holding the packs and gear out to the side, it was a tight fit. Less so for Neil and Renee who were by far the slenderest, but everyone else had a bit of a struggle. They sidestepped their way past the first apartment and broke into the second. One of the bedrooms had a door marked as utility instead of bathroom. Behind the door was the room with the entrance to the tube.

Alvarez frowned at the wide circular cover, for a moment returning to a life in the Capitol. “It’s why no one ever wants the center unit. Workmen coming and going whenever and no second bath. But the rent’s considerably cheaper.” Then she noticed Dan’s amused expression and shrugged. “Never mind.”

The tube’s cover was simple to unlatch. A wide ladder with rubber treads on the steps allowed for a swift, easy descent into the bowels of the city. Andrew led the way and caught Neil’s waist when he had almost reached the foot of the ladder to help him down. When they were complete they waited for their eyes to adjust to the dim strips of lights while breathing in the mixture of chemicals, mildew and sewage.

Atos, pale and sweaty, reached out and latched onto Darius’ wrist, like he might fall over if there wasn’t someone to steady him.

“My brother worked down here after he became an Avox,” Darius explained. Of course, who else would they get to maintain these dank, evil-smelling passages mined with pods? “Took five years before we were able to buy his way up to ground level. Didn’t see the sun once.”

Neil couldn’t really make out Andrew’s expression in the dimness, but he remembered his reaction to being outside after weeks of being kept underground. To think of years…

“Great, he just became our most valuable asset,” Andrew commented unimpressed.

And he was right. Atos turned out to be worth ten Holos. There was a simple network of wide tunnels that directly corresponded to the main street plan above, underlying the major avenues and cross streets. It was called the Transfer, since small trucks used it to deliver goods around the city. During the day, its many pods were deactivated, but at night it was a minefield. However, hundreds of additional passages, utility shafts, train tracks and draining tubes formed a multilevel maze.

Atos knew details that would lead to disaster for newcomers, such as which offshoots might require gas masks or had live wires or rats the size of beavers. He alerted them to the gush of water that swept through the sewers periodically, anticipated the time the Avoxes would be changing shifts, led them into damp, obscure pipes to dodge the nearly silent passage of cargo trains. Most important, he had knowledge of the cameras. There weren’t many down in this gloomy, misty place, except in Transfer. But they kept well out of their way.

Under Atos’ guidance they made good time – remarkable time, if Neil compared it to the above ground travel. After about six hours, fatigue finally took over. It was well past midnight, but Neil figured they still had a few hours before their bodies were discovered missing.

When he suggested to rest, no one objected. Atos found a small, warm room humming with machines loaded with levers and dials. He held up his fingers to indicate they must be gone in five hours. Riker worked out a guard schedule, and, since Neil was not on the first shift, he wedged himself in the tight space between Andrew and Matt and went right to sleep.

It seemed like only minutes later when Riker shook him awake to tell him he and Andrew were on watch. It was five o’clock, and in one hour they had to be on their way. Riker told Neil to eat a can of food and left waking Andrew to him.

It was unnecessary, since Andrew was already awake. They both shared a can of soup and something that consisted of potatoes and beans. Neil fiddled a little around with the sleeve of his jacket, before he pulled out a small pack of chocolate cookies from a pocket that was meant for ammo.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered and pressed the pack in Andrew’s hand. There was a frozen silence before Andrew huffed quietly, “Something special.”

“Did you think of something?” It was probably not the best of times to discuss such a thing, but on the other hand, it could be their last chance.

Andrew hummed as he tore open the plastic around the cookies and stuffed one in his mouth. “I did.”

Impatient, Neil bit his lip and drummed with his fingers on his thigh. When Andrew made no move to elaborate he pressed on. “What is it?”

“You will see.”

“Fine,” Neil said curtly. After another moment he added, “Can I give you something else regardless?”

Andrew turned his head and in the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes looked like bruises. “Depends. What is it?”

Eyes darting over the sleeping bodies of the squad, Neil checked if everyone was really asleep. It was hard to tell since he couldn’t see the faces of them all, so Neil lowered his voice again. “A kiss.”

That earned him a scoff. “You are pathetic.” A beat of silence. Then, “Okay.”

Neil smiled at Andrew’s quick surrender. He moved to kneel between Andrew’s slightly spread legs and waited for Andrew to tug him down. “Happy birthday,” he murmured once more against Andrew’s lips and then kissed him with a soft but urgent pressure. It couldn’t last long. They were in enemy territory and on guarding duty. It wasn’t enough, but it alerted Neil better than coffee or a cold shower could ever do.

Shortly before six, Andrew and Neil moved among the others, rousing them. There were the usual yawns and sighs that accompanied waking. But Neil’s ears were picking up something else, too. Almost like a hissing. Perhaps steam escaping a pipe or the far-off whoosh of one of the trains.

Neil hushed the group to get a better read on it. There was a hissing, yes, but it wasn’t one extended sound. More like multiple exhalations that formed words. A single word. Echoing throughout the tunnels. One word. One name. Repeated over and over again.

_ “Nathaniel.” _

 

The grace period had ended. Neil should have known that his father would have had his people digging through the night. They had found Rhemann’s remains, had briefly felt reassured, and then, as the hours had gone by without further trophies, had started to suspect. At some point, they had realized that they had been tricked. And Nathan Wesninski couldn’t tolerate being made to look like a fool.

It didn’t matter how they had found them, they knew Neil and his group had gone underground and now they had unleashed something, a pack of mutts probably, bent on finding Neil.  _ Nathaniel. _

Neil’s heart kicked into overdrive. The others had picked up on the hissing as well, and Andrew whipped around. “You have to get out of here.” His voice was tense and Neil saw his jaw working. He looked around and took in the anxious faces around him. “Whatever it is, it’s after me. It might be a good time to split up.”

“But we’re your guard,” Riker said.

“And your crew,” Alvarez added.

“We are your friends, Neil! Of course we won’t leave you.” Dan’s face was grim with determination. Andrew simply narrowed his eyes, and Neil could almost hear the voice in his head, telling him to stop acting on his martyr complex.

Neil looked at the crew, armed with nothing but cameras and clipboards. He told Dan to give one of her guns to Darius. Since Neil and Renee both had their bows, they handed their guns to Alvarez and Laila. Matt armed Atos with his own gun and took the sword from his back.

There was no time to show them anything but how to point and pull the trigger, but in close quarters, that might be enough. At least in Neil’s experience.

They left the room free of everything but their scent. There was no way to erase that at the moment. Neil was guessing that was how the hissing mutts were tracking them, because he was sure they hadn’t left much of a physical trail. Hopefully, the time spent slogging through water in drainpipes would throw them off a little.

Outside the hum of the room, the hissing became more distinct. But it was also possible to get a better sense of the mutt’s location. They were behind them, still a fair distance. His father probably had them released underground near the place where he had found Rhemann’s body. Theoretically, they should have a good lead on them, although the mutts were certain to be much faster than the group was.

Neil’s mind wandered to the wolflike creatures in the first arena, the monkeys during the Anniversary Games, and he wondered what form these mutts would take. Whatever his father thought would scare him most. The thought of being chased by muttations that looked like Lola, Romero, Jackson or his father made Neil’s head spin.

Atos lead them swiftly through the tunnels, maybe it was possible to reach the Moriyama mansion before the mutts reached them. But there was sloppiness that came with speed: the poorly placed boot that resulted in a splash, the accidental clang of a gun against a pipe, even quiet instructions were too loud for discretion.

They had covered about three more blocks via an overflow pipe and a section of neglected train tracks when the screams began. Thick, guttural. No real screams.

“Avoxes,” Seth said immediately. “That’s what they sound like when tortured. Had a few tongueless neighbors in the Capitol.”

“The mutts must have found them,” Laila said.

“So they’re not just after Neil,” Niobe concluded.

“They’ll probably kill anyone. It’s just that they won’t stop until they get to him.”

Matt was most likely right, and Neil found himself in a position again where his friends would die because of him. “Let me go alone. Lead them off. I’ll transfer the Holo to Riker. The rest of you can finish the mission.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Andrew snarled, making heads turn in surprise. “If you even do so much as think about running away, I will break your fucking neck.” Everyone seemed to be stunned speechless. Neil swallowed and ducked his head.

“Listen,” Renee whispered into the silence.

The screams had stopped, and in their absence the hissing had rebounded, startling in its proximity. It was below as well as behind them now.  _ “Nathaniel.” _

Neil nudged Atos on the shoulder and they started to run. They reached steps that led down, but that way was out of question now. Atos and Neil were scanning for a possible alternative on the Holo when Neil started gagging.

“Masks on!” Riker ordered.

There was no need for masks. Everyone was breathing the same air. Neil was the only one losing control, because he was the only one reacting to the smell drifting up from the stairwell and cutting through the sewage. The heavy and thick odor of rose perfume. Mixed with blood. Lola. Neil began to tremble.

He swerved away from the smell and stumbled right out onto the Transfer. Smooth, pastel-colored tiled streets, just like the ones above, but bordered by white brick walls instead of homes. Andrew grabbed Neil from behind and pulled him back. “Traps,” was all he said.

Neil swung up his bow and blew up the first pod with an explosive arrow, which killed the nest of flesh-eating rats inside. Then he sprinted for the next intersection, where he knew one false step would cause the ground beneath his feet to disintegrate, feeding them all into something labeled  _ MEAT GRINDER _ on the Holo.

Shouting for the others to stay with him, Neil planned for them to skirt around the corner and then detonate the Meat Grinder. But another unmarked pod laid in wait. It happened silently. Neil would have missed it entirely if Matt didn’t pull him to a stop. “Neil!”

Neil whipped back around, arrow poised for fight, but there was nothing to be done. Two of Renee’s arrows already uselessly hit the ground beside the wide shaft of golden light that radiated from ceiling to floor. Inside, Darius was as still as a statue, poised up on the ball of one foot, head tilted back, held captive by the beam. They had to watch helplessly as the flesh melted off his body like candle wax.

“Can’t help him.” Andrew started shoving Neil forward. “Fucking go!” He was the only one still functional enough to get the group moving. At the pressure of Andrew’s hand against his shoulder, Neil turned away from the grisly thing that had been Darius; he made his feet go forward, fast, so fast that he could barely skid to a stop before the next intersection.

A spray of gunfire brought down a shower of plaster. Neil jerked his head from side to side, looking for the pod, before he turned and saw the squad of Peacekeepers pounding down the Transfer towards him. With the Meat Grinder pod blocking the way, there was nothing to do but fire back. They outnumbered Neil’s group two to one, but even though they were originally only brought to the Capitol for television work, the Star Squad knew their way around a gun.

_ Aim, breathe, shoot _ , the voice of his mother echoed through his head, as blossoms of red stained their white uniforms. Not his father. Not his father. Not his father. Not Lola.

Three-quarters of the Peacekeepers were down and dead when more began to pour from the side of the tunnel, the same one Neil had flung himself through to get away from the smell, from—

Those weren’t Peacekeepers.

They were white, four-limbed, about the size of a full grown human, but that was where the comparison stopped. Naked, with long reptilian tails, arched backs, and heads that jutted forward. They swarmed over the Peacekeepers, living and dead, clamping on their necks with their mouths and ripping off the helmeted heads. It seemed to take only seconds before every last Peacekeeper was decapitated. The mutts fell to their bellies and skittered towards Neil on all fours.

“This way!” Neil shouted, hugging the wall and making a sharp right turn to avoid the pod. When everyone had joined him, he fired into the intersection, and the Meat Grinder activated. Huge mechanical teeth burst through the street and chewed the tile to dust. That should make it impossible for the mutts to follow, but Neil wasn’t sure. The wolf and monkey mutts had been able to leap unbelievably far.

The hissing burned in Neil’s ears, and the reek of blood and perfume made the walls spin. He grabbed for Atos’ arm. “Forget the mission. What’s the quickest way above ground?”

There was no time to check the Holo. They followed Atos for about ten meters along the Transfer and went through a doorway. Neil was aware of tile changing to concrete, of crawling through a stinking pipe onto a ledge about half a meter wide. They were in the main sewer. A meter below, a poisonous brew of human waste, garbage, and chemical run-offs was seething. Parts of the surface were on fire, others emitted evil-looking clouds of vapor. One look told Neil that if someone fell in, they were never coming out again.

They moved as quickly as they dared on the slippery ledge and made their way to a narrow bridge which they crossed. In an alcove at the far side, Atos smacked a ladder with his hand and pointed up the shaft. This was it. Their way out.

A quick glance at their party told Neil something was off. “Where are Riker and Niobe?”

“They stayed at the Grinder to hold the mutts back,” Jeremy answered.

“What?” Neil was lunging back for the bridge, willing to leave no one to those monsters, to Lola, when he was yanked back.

“It’s too late. Stop wasting time. Look!” Andrew forced Neil’s head to the pipe, where the mutts were slithering onto the ledge.

“Stand back,” Renee ordered. With her explosive-tipped arrows, she ripped the far side of the bridge from its foundation. The rest sunk into the bubbles, just as the mutts reached it.

For the first time, Neil got a good look at them. A mix of human and lizard and who knew what else. White, tight reptilian skin smeared with gore, clawed hands and feet, their faces a mess of conflicting features. They were hissing, shrieking for Neil in a way that sounded so much like Lola. Their bodies contorted in rage, lashing out with tails and claws, taking huge chunks of one another or their own bodies with wide, lathered mouths, driven mad by their need to destroy Neil.

Everyone opened fire. Neil chose his arrows without discretion, sending arrowheads, fire, explosives into the mutts’ bodies. They were mortal, but only just. No natural thing could keep coming with two dozen bullets in it. They could eventually kill them, only there were so many, an endless supply pouring from the pipe, not even hesitating to take to the toxic sewage.

But it wasn’t their numbers that made Neil’s hand shake so. No mutt was good. All were meant to inflict as much damage as possible. Some took lives, like the monkeys. Others a person’s reason, like the tracker jackers. But those atrocities clawing at everything in their way, incorporated a perverse psychological twist designed to terrify the victim. The sound of the birds replicating Andrew’s tortured screams. The smell of Lola, blood and roses, carried across the sewer. It made Neil’s heart run wild, his skin turn to ice and his lungs unable to suck air. It was as if Lola was pressing against his back, telling him how she would cut him today.

The others were shouting at Neil, but he couldn’t find the strength to respond. Strong arms lifted him as he blasted the head off a mutt whose claws had just grazed his ankle. He was slammed into the ladder. Hands shoved against the rungs. Ordered to climb. His wooden, puppet limbs obeyed. He recognized that voice. That voice was safety.

Movement brought Neil slowly back to his senses. He could detect two persons above him. Alvarez and Jeremy. Andrew and Laila were below. They reached a platform. Switched to a second ladder. Andrew. Laila. That was it.

What had he done? What had he abandoned the others to? Neil wanted to scramble back down the ladder when Andrew shoved against his backside and Dan shouted from somewhere beneath him, “Climb!”

Neil was back up, hauling Andrew, Laila, Dan, Renee and Matt in, peering into the gloom for more. “No.” Matt turned Neil’s face to him and shook his head. Uniform shredded. Gaping wound in the side of his neck.

There was a human cry from below. Someone was still alive. Neil shone the light from Laila’s gun down the shaft. Far below, he could just make out Seth, struggling to hang on as three mutts tore at him. One yanked back his head to take the death bite and it was over. Neil slid the Holo from his belt and muttered numbly “foxbite, foxbite, foxbite”. He released it. Hunched against the wall with the others as the explosion rocked the platform and bits of mutt and human flesh shot out of the pipe and showered them.

There was a clank as Jeremy slammed a cover over the pipe and locked it in place. Jeremy, Andrew, Renee, Matt, Dan, Laila, Alvarez and Neil. They were the ones that were left. Later, Neil could maybe muster up some human feelings. Now he was conscious only of the lessons that had been beaten into his skull by his mother. “We can’t stop here.”

Someone came up with a bandage. Dan tied it around Matt’s neck and got him to his feet. Andrew grabbed Neil by the straps of his vest and examined his face with dark eyes. Not really caring anymore what anyone might think, Neil clutched to Andrew’s jacket, reassuring himself that Andrew was still there.

They climbed the last ladder and pushed open the lid to someone’s utility room. Neil was rising to his feet when a woman threw open the door. She wore a bright turquoise silk robe embroidered with exotic birds. Her magenta hair was fluffed up like a cloud and decorated with gilded butterflies. The expression on her face said she recognized him. She opened her mouth to call for help. Without hesitation, Neil shot her through the heart.

 

Who the woman had wanted to call to remained a mystery, because after searching the apartment, they found she was alone. Maybe a nearby neighbor, or it had been simply an expression of fear. At any rate, there was no one else to hear her.

The apartment would have been a classy place to hole up in for a while, but that was a luxury they couldn’t afford. “It won’t take long for them to figure out we survived,” Neil said. “They could be here anytime.”

He went to a window and overlooked the street. There weren’t any Peacekeepers but a bundled crowd of people going about their business. During their journey underground, they had left the evacuated zones far behind and had surfaced in a busy section of the Capitol. Neil knew where they were and that they weren’t many blocks from the president’s mansion.

One glance at his friends told him there was no time for a stealth attack on Riko or anyone at that. Matt was still losing blood from the neck wound, which they hadn’t even cleaned. Dan was fighting back tears over the loss of her mentor, she stood tight lipped with her arms crossed while Renee stroked over her hair. They all looked pale and were running on nothing but fumes.

“We need to find shelter and rest,” Alvarez said. She wiped a few times over her eyes, determined to hold the tears back a little longer. Atos and Darius had been her friends.

“Any ideas?” Matt asked Laila. She and Alvarez were the only Capitol natives with trustworthy connections left. Andrew obviously wouldn’t lead them to one of his many old homes, and Neil… A slip of paper, hidden in his old, tattered backpack flashed through Neil’s mind. The pack hadn’t survived the bombing of 12. But the address, safely tugged away in a secret pocket of it, was ingrained in Neil’s brain. He had sworn to never use it, ever. Lately, he had broken a lot of promises made to himself and his mother, though. And they were desperate.

“I know a place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me not killing any major characters haha


	27. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is another trip through hell. The last one, I promise!  
> Some warnings: Torture and war-related events that are horrible over all. It's not worse than what happens in Mockingjay and The King's Men tho. If you want to know more, hit me up on my tumblr [vaasmontefuckyou](http://vaasmontefuckyou.tumblr.com/) (or if you just want to chat lol)

Since they had to move unseen between the people on the street, Neil called everyone to check the closet. In one bedroom they found hundreds of women’s outfits, coats, pairs of shoes, a rainbow of wigs, enough make-up to paint a house. In a bedroom across the hall, there was a similar selection for men. Neil was confused about the differentiation since it was essentially the same stuff. Maybe the man’s clothes were a little wider around the shoulders, but that was it. They split up accordingly nonetheless; attracting attention by wearing the wrong clothes was the last thing they needed.

Fortunately, it was cold outside, so they were able to conceal most of their uniforms and weapons under flowing coats and cloaks. They hung their boots around their necks by the laces to hide them and pulled on silly shoes for authenticity. The real challenge, of course, was their faces. Laila and Alvarez ran the risk of being recognized by acquaintances, Jeremy could be familiar from the propos and news, and everyone else was known by every citizen of Panem. The girls hastily helped to apply thick layers of make-up and obscured characteristics under wigs and sunglasses. Alvarez additionally wrapped scarves over Neil’s, Matt’s, Andrew’s, Dan’s and Renee’s mouths and noses.

Neil could feel the clock ticking away, but stopped for just a few moments to stuff pockets with food and first-aid supplies. “Stay together,” he said at the front door. Then they marched right into the street. Snow flurries had begun to fall. Agitated people swirled around their group, speaking of rebels and hunger and Nathaniel Wesninski in their posh Capitol accents.

Neil led his friends over the street, and they passed a few more apartments. Just as they turned the corner, three dozen Peacekeepers swept past them. Everyone, except for Andrew, hopped out of their way, as the real citizens did. Andrew followed a lot less urgently which made Neil grit his teeth, but he stayed silent. They waited until the crowd returned to its normal flow and kept on moving.

They covered another block before the sirens started. Through an apartment window, Neil saw an emergency report and pictures of his and the other’s faces flashing. They hadn’t identified who had died yet, because Seth, Atos and Darius were among the photos. Soon every passerby would be as dangerous as a Peacekeeper. Neil quickened his pace.

After a few more blocks, Neil identified the area and when he found the wanted street name, he slowed down. It didn’t feel right to be here, but he shook off the paranoid sensation of being watched and went through a gate that belonged to a neat looking private residence. They crossed a manicured garden and stood in front of another gate. Thick, iron bars. A camera was attached and below it an intercom and button for the door bell.

“This is an official’s home,” Alvarez hissed. She looked over her shoulder and back to the great house behind the gate. It wasn’t as grand and over the top as the Moriyama mansion, or the Wesninski house. It was still a lot more than anyone of them was used to.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Laila asked. Her voice was muffled by the collar of her coat, but the worried glances she darted towards Neil were telling.

Neil ignored them and pressed the doorbell and waited for the intercom come to life.  _ “Yes?” _

“This is Mary for Mr. Hatford.” Neil’s head started to pound and cold sweat coated his back and palms. A long silence followed in which Neil was sure he had sentenced everyone to certain death, when the gate suddenly hummed with electricity and swung open. Neil glanced at the tense faces of his friends before he took a tentative step inside and led them to the marble stairs of the house with the golden front door.

“Who is Mary?” Dan asked as they climbed the stairs.

“My mom,” Neil answered without taking his eyes off the golden door.

Just as they reached it, it was opened by a woman in servant clothes. She was no Avox by the way she swallowed normally, but she also didn’t address them. Wordlessly, they were led through the impressive foyer with a thick, crimson carpet that soaked up the dirt from their shoes. Neil’s head was spinning from anxiety, he had no idea what to expect and quite frankly, endangered them all to an unpredictable risk.

The woman showed them the way to a cozy salon with a fireplace that made them all sweat seconds upon entering. She left them without another word, closing the door behind her. No one dared to speak up, they were most likely being monitored right now which didn’t stop Andrew from reaching for his knives, secured under his armbands.

“Mary is not with you,” someone said from behind Neil. Fancy Capitol accent, very refined speech. Neil turned around and stopped breathing for a moment. He would know that face anywhere. Even though nine years had taken a severe toll on Stuart Hatford, Neil could still see his mother in Stuart’s lined face. Not only did they share their small stature but the mouth and nose as well. Where his mother had had only a few gray strands in her hair, Stuart’s had turned completely gray.

His eyes were narrowed in suspicion as he took in their group, a gun casually held by his side. To help him, Neil pulled down his scarf and removed the wig. Surprise took the edge off his uncle’s face as he recognized him. “For fuck’s sake. Nathaniel?”

“It’s me,” Neil confirmed in a raspy voice.

Stuart’s eyes swept over the others when they followed Neil’s cue and revealed their faces. His eyes lingered a little longer on Andrew but eventually returned to his nephew. “Where is Mary?”

Neil opened and closed his mouth several times before he accepted that he couldn’t find his voice and simply shook his head. Stuart’s expression shuttered; his glimmer of hope disappeared as quickly as it’d come. There was a long moment filled with tension until Stuart finally placed his gun on a nearby table and sunk down on a dark green velvet sofa. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you in the first Games. I thought I was hallucinating, or at least found your doppelganger. It wasn’t until the Anniversary Games that I had your father storming in here, demanding answers. I should have known she was dead. She would have never allowed for you to be reaped.” He gazed up to a frozen Neil who didn’t know what to say. “What happened?”

“It was—” Neil stopped. Cleared his throat. Started again. “It was two years ago. He… he found us in 8. We managed to flee, but she was already dying when I noticed something was wrong. I…” There was really no nice way of telling this. “I burned her body and buried her bones on the beach.”

His uncle closed his eyes and rubbed over his shaved cheeks. A silence spread out with only the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace interrupting it. After what felt like an eternity, Stuart said, “So you played in the Games and not only joined the rebellion, but became its face as well? Rather than just calling me?”

Hot anger surged through Neil. “It wasn’t me who told Mom we couldn’t stay with you! You sent us away! And what was I supposed to do? Call you and go back to the Capitol where my father would have found me sooner or later?” All the stress of the past days, weeks, months surfaced and fell right out of his mouth. Exactly what he needed right now, to remind his uncle of how much a Wesninski he truly was. Neil tried to rein his anger in, but he could feel his tongue loosen and threaten to spill another onslaught of words.

Stuart’s eyebrows were raised in surprise and then he smiled. It was small and thin, but it was there. “You are so much like your mother. Stubborn creatures, never listening and always head first through the wall.” Behind Neil, his friends snorted which drew Stuart’s attention to them. His expression turned serious again, gone was the smile. “What are you doing here? I saw you die several times in the past twenty-four hours.”

“We need to hide,” Neil said outright. “You were the only one I could think of.”

“Your father is like a fucking shark that has smelled blood. First thing he will do is turn up on my doorstep. He’s not stupid, Nathaniel, he knows where to look for you.”

Neil had come to the same conclusion the second he had made up his mind to seek out his uncle. He bit his lip, putting on a calm face. “Can you help us or not?” If he couldn’t or wouldn’t, they were clearly fucked. In that case, Neil knew he would run. Namely, to his father to get him off his friend’s trail. Once he had Neil in his clutches, he would most likely lose all interest in the others.

Stuart drummed with his fingers against the sofa’s armrest, eying the eight dirty, reeking and injured people in front of him. “Of course I can help. I just hope I won’t slit that bastard’s throat the second he shows his ugly mug here, or else they will kill me and probably find you. Hope for my self-restraint. I endured him the last twenty years, so it’s kind of wearing thin.”

They were led out of the salon and into a small chamber beneath the wide staircase in the foyer. In the chamber, behind a shelf with cleaning agents, Stuart slid back a panel at the base of the wall. A steep stone stairway appeared, leading down into the unknown.

“It won’t be very homey and probably cramped, but it’s the safest option I have to offer. In case Nathan’s executing the house search right away.”

Renee entered first and was followed by Dan, Alvarez, Laila, Matt and Jeremy. Andrew lingered with Neil as he turned to his uncle once again. “Thank you. You’re saving our lives.”

“Your father has already taken enough. I will check on you the second the coast is clear. There should be food down there, but it will probably take a while. Keep your head low, Nathaniel.”

Neil nodded and went after his friends. Before Stuart could push the panel back to hide the entrance, Andrew, who was right on Neil’s heels, turned around and said, “His name is Neil.” There was no answer, and Neil couldn’t tell what kind of look was exchanged between them, but the tension was palpable. Finally, the scraping of the panel against the hardwood floor could be heard, and they were trapped inside with no way back. Without the light from above, Andrew and Neil could only follow the yellow shine of a lamp from an unseen room downstairs.

The hideout turned out to be not half bad. It was dry and at least warmer than being out on the streets. The others had made a bed of blankets and coats they had found on shelves and in closets, and Dan was helping Matt onto his back when Andrew and Neil entered. Matt looked like he was on the verge of collapsing, his dark skin had turned ashen and the wound on his neck had bled through the bandage. Renee appeared from another door that led to a small bathroom.

“The water is lukewarm at best,” she said as she started to clean Matt’s neck. “But it’s clean, and I think we can also drink it.”

As Neil watched her, he realized bandages wouldn’t be enough for the injury. “I think we need to stitch that up.” Renee stopped to take a closer look, and so did Dan who had Matt’s head in her lap. “Oh, babe,” she sighed. “It looks pretty deep.”

There was a needle and sterile thread in the first-aid supplies. Neil turned to Jeremy. “Can you do that?”

“I—I’m not sure. Riker was our medic, actually. I only know the basics, like stop the bleeding and drink hot tea when cold.” Neil nodded. Alvarez and Laila wouldn’t know much about it either, and with the other three he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he had done this over a dozen times, for his mother and also for himself.

“Okay, I’ll do it. But it won’t be pretty,” he warned Matt, who actually didn’t seem to care anymore. He was slipping in and out of sleep while Dan muttered sweet things to him. It wasn’t Neil’s best work, but he put in a row of jagged sutures, smeared it with medicine and wrapped it up. He told Dan to give him some painkillers and that he had to rest. It was like he had just performed a magic trick, because Matt went out like a light.

While Laila and Alvarez made blanket and coat nests for the other seven, Renee laid out their food supplies and sorted through them. Jeremy was the first to use the bathroom, and Neil attended to a few mean looking cuts on Andrew’s left arm. The claws of the lizardlike mutts had cut through the uniform’s jacket and shirt, into the skin. Gently, Neil rinsed away the blood, put on an antiseptic, and bandaged almost all of Andrew’s biceps. “You’ve got to keep them clean, otherwise the infection could spread out and—”

“I know what blood poisoning is, Neil,” Andrew said. “Even if I didn’t have to stitch my mother and myself up time after time.”

Neil blinked. It was barely noticeable with Andrew’s default empty expression and blank voice, but he was annoyed. “Is something wrong?”

Andrew didn’t answer him at first. He simply stared at the wall, fingers twitching towards his pocket in need of a cigarette. In a room without windows he restrained, however. “I don’t like it here,” he said eventually.

“It’s not ideal, but I trust my uncle to hate my father enough to not sell us out.”

“I still don’t trust him.” Neil accepted that with a nod.

Everyone, except Matt, took a quick turn in the bathroom to wash the worst grime off. Neil was the last and when he returned, Laila asked what he wanted to do about setting up a guard. Neil looked at Matt’s pallor, then at the others. No one had slept longer than a few hours in the past two days. If a troop of Peacekeepers were to come through the door, they’d be trapped like rats. They were completely at the mercy of Neil’s uncle, a man who officially worked for the Moriyamas, but hopefully held a bigger grudge against Nathan Wesnisnki than loyalty towards his president and country.

“I don’t honestly think there’s any point in setting up a guard. Let’s just try to get some sleep,” Neil said. The others mumbled their assent, and they all burrowed into their coats and blankets. Neil didn’t fall asleep right away. He and Andrew looked at each other for another few minutes. There was nothing but the rhythmic breathing of six other people and the dull shine in Andrew’s hazel eyes. Wordlessly, Andrew lifted a hand.  _ Yes or no?  _ Neil slipped closer, tilting his head in silent consent. When rough knuckles stroked over his cheek, he closed his eyes. A thumb pressed down on his lip, followed by the brush of fingers over his burn scar. The hand vanished from his face, and Neil wanted to open his eyes in question when he felt the warmth of a palm over his steadily beating heart. Like this, Neil fell asleep. Feeling soft and kind of mushy.

He had only one dream he remembered. A long and wearying journey in which he was trying to get to District 12. The warmth of the bakery with Nicky’s chatter and Andrew’s flour stained hands, the baker slipping an extra bread roll in Neil’s bag. Allison, conspicuous in a bright orange dress and hair masterfully done, travelled with him. She was constantly reminding Neil to stay on his schedule. Only the schedule was constantly shifting, derailed by their lack of a stamp from an official or delayed when Allison criticized his outfit and forced him to change. They camped for days on a bench in a gray station in District 7, awaiting a train that never came. When Neil woke, somehow he felt even more drained by this than his usual night-time forays into blood and terror.

Andrew and Laila, the only people awake, told him it was late afternoon. Neil ate some dry crackers and washed them down with a lot of water. Then he leaned against the cellar wall, retracing the events of the last day. Moving death by death. One – Rhemann lost on the block. Two – Darius melted by the pod. Three, four – Niobe and Riker sacrificing themselves at the Meat Grinder. Five, six – Seth and Atos being decapitated by the mutts. Six dead in twenty-four hours. Neil knew it had happened, and yet it didn’t feel real. Maybe because he actually knew them unlike in the Hunger Games, where acquaintances had been fleeting and short-lived. Except for Robin.

To believe them dead was to accept Neil had killed them. Maybe not Rhemann; he had died on an actual assignment. But the others had lost their lives defending him on a mission he had fabricated. His plot to assassinate Riko seemed so stupid now. What even was Riko? His death would change nothing in this war. It was nothing but childish, selfish revenge. The whole thing seemed so incredibly pointless as he sat there in this cellar, tallying up losses, fingering the tassels on the silver boots he had stolen from the woman’s home. Right, he had forgotten about that. He had killer her, too. He was taking out unarmed citizens now.

“Shut up,” Andrew said where he was sitting next to him, fumbling an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

Neil looked up from his brooding. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I can hear you thinking stupid shit again. Quit it.”

Neil’s temper flared up, hot and ugly. “Then stop fucking listening if I’m bothering you!” He already regretted his outburst the second he closed his mouth. Now it was shame that made his cheeks and ears burn.

Andrew was unimpressed. He barely raised his brow at him. “Retract the claws, fox boy.”

“I’m sorry,” Neil mumbled and pulled his legs against his chest to bury his face in his knees. Andrew didn’t answer but he also didn’t move away. They waited like that until everyone finally awakened, and Neil confessed to them. How he had lied about the mission, how he had jeopardized everyone in pursuit of revenge. There was a long silence after he had finished. Then Laila said, “Neil, we all knew you were lying about Whittier sending you to assassinate Riko or Ichirou or anyone.”

“You knew, maybe. But everyone else didn’t,” Neil replied, not looking at Jeremy and his friends.

“Do you really think any of us, especially Riker, believed you had orders from Whittier?” Jeremy asked with a smile. “Of course we didn’t. But Riker trusted Rhemann, and he clearly wanted you to go on.”

“Yeah, well. He certainly did not intend for it to be like this,” Neil said. “It’s been a complete disaster.”

“I think it would be considered a highly successful mission,” Dan said. “We’ve infiltrated the enemy camp, showing that the Capitol’s defenses can be breached. And we’ve managed to get footage of ourselves all over the Capitol’s news. We’ve thrown the whole city into chaos trying to find us.”

“Trust me, President Whittier is thrilled,” Jeremy added.

“That’s because he doesn’t care who dies,” Neil said. “Not as long as this war will end as his success.”

“And you care?” Andrew suddenly spoke up. Dan looked annoyed at that since she was trying to convince Neil. Neil could only bite his lip before he said, “I care about you.” All of them. He had cared for Rhemann. Niobe and Riker. Seth, Darius and Atos. Because they had belonged to his team. He had known them long enough to see them transform from strangers to allies to friends. If he would have left Niobe and Seth behind without remorse during the Anniversary Games, he would have never done it after everything they had gone through. Seth had still been a huge asshole, unbearable most of the time, but he had forced Neil to keep on going. All those motivating insults during training, the few moments they had shared sitting around the bonfire in their camp, smoking cigarettes because neither of them could find sleep in the Capitol. “It’s my fault.”

Andrew shrugged. “You are really stupid. You have no idea the effect you can have.”

There was a stunned silence in the room at that. Matt and Dan gaped at this open display of Andrew’s innermost thoughts. Neil couldn’t quite believe what he had heard. Effect? “What?”

“None of the people killed were idiots. With the exception of Seth, maybe,” Andrew said in a tone that indicated he thought Neil was being deliberately slow. “They knew what they were doing. They followed you because they believed you really could kill Riko or Ichirou or both.”

That was the most Andrew had ever talked in front of others. Neil blinked. If Andrew was right, and Neil somehow really thought he was, he owed the others a debt that could only be repaid in one way. He pulled his paper map from a pocket in his uniform and spread it on the floor with new resolve. “We’re still on a mission.”

Stuart’s house sat about five blocks from the City Circle and the Moriyama mansion. They were in easy walking distance through a zone in which the pods were deactivated for the residents’ safety. They had disguises that, perhaps with some embellishments from Stuart’s own wardrobe, could get them safely there. But then what? The mansion was sure to be heavily guarded, under round-the-clock camera surveillance, and laced with pods that could be activated at the flick of a switch.

“We should maybe clarify our target first,” Renee said. “I know you were after Riko, but shouldn’t we go for Ichirou instead? He is the bigger threat.”

Neil sighed. “I’d like to hit both. But you are right. Ichirou should be our priority.” Without Ichirou his father would be the body of a snake without a head. That should at least slow him down for a while. Riko was nothing, his death wouldn’t change anything.

“What we need is to get him out in the open,” Matt mused. “Then one of us could pick him off.”

“Does he ever appear in public anymore?” asked Jeremy.

“I don’t think so,” said Alvarez. “At least in all the recent speeches we’ve seen, he’s been in the mansion. Even before the rebels got here.”

Ichirou wasn’t stupid. He knew the value of his life, and it would have to be something bordering on miraculous to lure him out.

“Do you think he would do it for me?” Neil asked. “If I were captured, he would want my execution as public as possible, don’t you think? Renee, Andrew or Jeremy could shoot him from the audience then.”

“No,” Andrew simply said. The others shook their heads as well. 

“There are too many alternative endings to that plan. From your father who would keep you to do whatever, to Ichirou having you executed publicly without being present. He could even have your father kill you and display your body out front,” Renee told him in her calm, collected manner. She listed all these very plausible options as if they were talking about the destination of a day trip. And Neil knew she was right. The second his father learned about his capture there wouldn’t be much left of his body to show the world.

“We’re doing this to keep you safe,” Matt said gently. “Let’s keep thinking.”

In the quiet that followed, they heard the panel at the top of the stairs slide open. “Come up,” Stuart called in a measured voice. “I have some food for you. And news.”

It was already getting dark outside, so every curtain was closed in the house with no way of sneaking in glances from outside. It took Neil only one second to determine that his father had been here. The foyer was dirty from over a dozen people trampling around and there was still the faint scent of rose perfume in the air. Without thinking Neil muttered, “Andrew.” When Andrew didn’t tell him no, Neil clutched the fabric of his uniform in his hands, let the familiar feeling keep him upright.

Stuart led them into a snug kitchen, filled with the smell of warm food. It was almost a divine moment when everyone was handed a bowl of freshly cooked broth and a slice of fresh Capitol bread. They turned to sit at the sturdy, wooden table behind the kitchen counter, when they realized they were not alone. A young woman stood in the doorway, displeased expression on her face and arms crossed over her chest. Neil almost dropped his bowl when he recognized her. Thea Muldani, the Games lead trainer and supervisor.

The time it took the others to process this development, Andrew and Renee each had already drawn a knife from wherever and had positioned themselves in front of the group. Thea was unimpressed by that and took a step closer which made Andrew and Renee go into fight mode. They reminded Neil of a pair of cats, fur standing on end and ears lying flat, telling their opponent to back off.

“Fucking hell, calm down,” Stuart told them, exasperated. “She’s bringing you the news. Corinna’s already busy enough cleaning that Peacekeeper dirt up. I don’t need fucking blood on my kitchen floor.”

Since Thea’s body language was not immediately threatening, Renee slid her knife back to place and eyed the other woman calmly. Andrew wasn’t as fast to trust the situation, but at least he didn’t slit anyone’s throat. The tense silence settled between them until Alvarez nodded in Thea’s direction and said, “You are Kevin’s contact. The one who told him where the victors were held.”

Thea scoffed. “I couldn’t believe when he told me to risk exposing several undercover agents for three pathetic people.” She turned to look at Neil with disdain in her eyes. Or maybe she was just like Kevin and couldn’t wear any other expression. “At least it wasn’t for nothing.”

When they were all settled around the table with their food, Stuart gave them a quick summary of Nathan’s visit. As expected he had searched the house, sure Neil would run to Stuart first thing. They hadn’t even bothered taking a closer look around the storage room. Of course, he had come up empty. But Neil knew better than to be lulled into a false sense of security.

Thea had a little bit more to tell. First of all, she couldn’t reach Kevin. Every contact between her, the other spies and the rebels was impossible at this time. Which meant for Neil and his friends that they were still on their own. At least their family and friends in 13 didn’t think them dead as the government had the rebel survivors narrowed down to the eight of them. Huge bounties were offered for information leading to their capture. Thea turned on the television where they were shown exchanging gunfire with the Peacekeepers, although not the mutts ripping off their heads. The smooth voice of the narrator emphasized how dangerous they were. Then a tragic tribute to the woman Neil had shot followed. She was still lying where they had left her, arrow in her heart. Someone had redone her make-up for the camera.

The rebels let the Capitol broadcast run on uninterrupted. “Have the rebels made a statement today?” Dan asked Thea. She shook her head.

“Whittier probably doesn’t know what to do with Neil now that he’s still alive,” Matt said with a laugh. It wasn’t funny, really, since Whittier had hoped for Neil’s death to give the rebellion its last boost. But it was amusing to imagine the rebel’s annoyance over his durability. A few months ago they had praised him for it, after all.

Thea gave Matt a cold look before turning her attention towards Neil. “No one knows what to do with him.” That was all she said before she left again. She would return tomorrow, hopefully with something that was actually helpful for their purpose.

Downstairs, after supper, everyone continued to rack their brains for a plan. Nothing good came up, but they did agree that that they could no longer go out as a group of eight, and that they should try to infiltrate the president’s mansion before Neil turned himself into bait. Neil agreed to the second point to avoid further argument. Especially with Dan, Matt and Andrew, who did not argue but stared holes in the back of Neil’s head with sharp eyes. If Neil decided to give himself up to save his friends, it wouldn’t require anyone else’s permission or participation.

Neil changed Andrew’s bandages while Dan did the same for Matt. For a millisecond Neil let his fingers linger around the muscles of Andrew’s upper arm, remembering the feeling of being held up by them. Andrew didn’t say anything, and they settled down to sleep. Again, Neil didn’t close his eyes right away. Instead he stared at Andrew’s sleeping face, found the freckles on his nose and cheeks and tried to memorize every detail of it.

In the morning, Stuart called them upstairs for a predawn breakfast. They gathered around the television for one of Janie’s break-ins. There had been a new development in the war. Apparently inspired by the black wave, some enterprising rebel commander had come up with the idea of confiscating people’s abandoned automobiles and sending them unmanned down the streets. The cars didn’t trigger every pod, but they certainly got the majority. At around four in the morning, the rebels had begun carving three separate paths to the Capitol’s heart. As a result, they had secured block after block with very few casualties.

“This can’t last,” Stuart muttered.

“Why is that?” Alvarez asked.

Dan tapped against her chin, knitting her brows grimly. “The Capitol will adjust by deactivating specific pods and then manually triggering them when their targets come in range.”

Almost within minutes of this prediction, they could see that very thing happen on-screen. A squad sent a car down a block, setting off four pods. All seemed well. Three scouts followed and made it safely to the end of the street. But when a group of twenty rebel soldiers followed, they were blown to bits by a row of potted rosebushes in front of a flower shop.

Janie gave the broadcast back to the Capitol, where a reporter announced the blocks that civilians were to evacuate. Between her update and the previous story, Neil was able to mark his paper map to show the relative positions of the opposing armies.

While the others were still watching, Neil moved to a window facing the street in front of the house and peeked out through the curtains. In the early morning light, he could watch the refugees from the now occupied blocks streaming towards the Capitol’s center. The most panicked wore nothing but nightgowns and slippers, while the more prepared were heavily bundled in layers of clothes. They carried everything from lapdogs to jewelry boxes to potted plants. One man in a fluffy robe held only an overripe banana. Confused, sleepy children stumbled along after their parents, most either too stunned or too baffled to cry. Bits of them flashed by Neil’s line of vision. A pair of wide, blue eyes. An arm clutching a favorite doll. A pair of bare feet, bluish in the cold, catching on the paving stones of the street. The picture of a small boy flashed through Neil’s head. Scared and forced silent, arm hurting where his mother’s grip was too tight as she dragged him from his bed in the middle of the night.

Thea acted as their spy for the day since she was the only one who could move freely through the city. Down in the cellar, Neil paced back and forth, driving the others crazy. Something told him that not taking advantage of the flood of refugees was a mistake. What better cover could they have? On the other hand, every displaced person milling about on the streets meant another pair of eyes looking for the eight rebels on the loose. Then again, what did they gain by staying here? All they were doing was hiding and waiting… for what? The rebels to take the Capitol? It could be weeks before that happened, and besides Neil had not come all this way, lost all these people, to watch some tribunal sentencing Riko to death. Maybe he had not made a direct promise to Andrew, but Neil had promised to himself that he was going kill him.

By late afternoon, everyone was beginning to get restless about Stuart’s and Thea’s long absence. Especially since Stuart should be still at home; he had told them he would call them for lunch. Talk turned to the possibilities that Thea had been apprehended and arrested, had turned in Stuart voluntarily, or they had been simply abandoned by both of them. But around six o’clock they heard some shuffling, then Stuart opened the panel. The wonderful smell of frying meat filled the air. In the kitchen, Thea and a tight-lipped Stuart awaited them.

“Your father paid me another visit this afternoon,” Stuart said. Neil’s heart sunk as he imagined the few meters that had separated him from Nathan. “He is losing patience. Not going to lie, I enjoyed seeing him squirm.” Neil couldn’t respond to that. He had watched his father getting slowly irritated over something many times before, and it had always ended with a punch to the head for him, or a knife cutting his skin.

Thea gave them a quick update about the situation. Many were still out on the street, trying to find shelter for the night. Those who lived in the choice apartments of the inner city had not flung open their doors to house the displaced. On the contrary, most of them had bolted their locks, drawn their shutters, and pretended to be out. Now the City was packed with refugees, and the Peacekeepers were going door to door, breaking into places if they had to, to assign houseguests.

On the television they watched a terse Head Peacekeeper, none that Neil knew, laying out specific rules regarding how many people per square foot each resident would be expected to take in. He reminded the citizens of the Capitol that temperatures would drop well below freezing tonight and warned them that their president expected them to be willing hosts in this time of crisis. Then they showed some very staged-looking shots of concerned citizens welcoming grateful refugees into their homes. The Head Peacekeeper said the president himself had ordered part of his mansion readied to receive citizens tomorrow. Also other officials should be prepared to accommodate people in the next few days.

“That could be you,” Neil said to Stuart. If that was the case, they would be truly trapped in the cellar, in constant danger of discovery. By the number of people streaming in, they had maybe one or two days left.

The Head Peacekeeper came back with more instructions for the population. It seemed that this evening there had been an unfortunate incident where a crowd had beat to death a young woman who resembled Renee. Henceforth, all rebel sightings were to be reported immediately to authorities, who would deal with the identification and arrest of the suspect. They showed a photo of the victim. Apart from the bleached hair, she looked about as much like Renee as Neil did.

“People have gone wild,” Alvarez murmured.

When the broadcast was over, Neil pulled out his map to check what he already knew. The best way to the President’s mansion.

“Do you think it’s true? That Ichirou will let refugees into the mansion?” he asked.

“I think he has to now, at least for the cameras,” said Jeremy.

Neil pressed his thumb against his lower lip. “We should leave in the morning.”

“So what exactly is your plan?” Stuart’s tone was anything but convinced. The way he looked at Neil reminded Neil so much of his mother. She had never trusted him enough to do things on his own. After he had explained his plan to his uncle and the others, the look still wouldn’t vanish, but his arguments against it were meager at best. What truly shut him up was Andrew’s “He survived this long without your help. He doesn’t need your belated sense of responsibility now.” If looks could kill, Andrew would be dead, though.

They spent a fitful night, woken by one another’s nightmares, minds buzzing with the next day’s plan. Neil was actually relieved when five o’clock rolled around, and they could begin whatever this day held for them. They ate a quick breakfast of their remaining food – canned peaches, crackers, and tea from Stuart – before making use of Stuart’s closet. Alvarez and Laila used the next hour remaking everyone. First, they had to redress so regular clothes hid their uniforms before they could even don the coats and cloaks. The military boots were covered with some sort of furry slippers. The make-up was a little harder to obtain since Stuart didn’t own much, but it was sufficient for their situation. Alvarez draped the outerwear skillfully to conceal the weapons. In the end, they all looked exactly like the refugees fleeing the rebels.

There were no helpful updates on the television, but the alley seemed as thick with refugees as the previous morning. Neil’s plan was to slip into the crowd in three groups. First Alvarez and Laila, who would act as guides while keeping a safe lead on them. Then Neil and Andrew, who intended to position themselves among the refugees assigned to the mansion today. Jeremy, Dan and Matt would follow them to intervene if any problems should occur. And lastly, Renee, who would trail behind everyone, ready to create a disturbance if needed. It had been her idea to go alone. She had argued that she would be the most useful for causing a diversion since they all had seen what had happened to the woman who had looked like her.

Stuart watched through a window next to the backdoor that led to his backyard. He nodded, unbolted the door and waved Alvarez and Laila over. “Take care,” Laila said, and then they were gone.

Neil and Andrew would follow in a minute. Stuart watched them both before he let out a low growl. “Listen, don’t do anything foolish. If you see your father I want you to take off in the opposite direction. Do you understand?” His eyes were fixated on Neil only. Neil nodded. “I understand, Uncle Stuart.”

“Your concern is really touching,” Andrew said. If Neil hadn’t been used to the fine nuances of Andrew’s expressions, he would have certainly missed the bite to his words. Stuart seemed to understand anyway. “I know men like you. Don’t think I wouldn’t slit your throat if you do so much as look at Nathaniel the wrong way.”

Andrew tilted his head in consideration. “You didn’t slit the throat of  _ Neil’s _ father, though. How seriously can I take that threat?”

There was a moment were both men regarded each other like two snakes ready to attack. Neil rolled his eyes, fastened his red hooded cloak to hide his hair, pulled his scarf over his nose, and tapped on Andrew’s shoulder. “It’s time.”

There was no time for any good-luck wishes or goodbyes, Neil simply opened the door and stepped out into the frigid air.

Sharp, icy snowflakes bit his exposed skin. The rising sun was trying to break through the gloom without much success. There was enough light to see the bundled forms closest to them and little more. Perfect conditions for their intentions, except that Neil couldn’t locate Alvarez and Laila. He gave up after a minute. Instead he dropped his head like Andrew and shuffled along with the refugees. He could hear what he had missed peeking through the curtains yesterday. Crying, moaning, labored breathing. And, not too far away, gunfire.

“Where are we going, Mama?” a shivering little boy asked a woman with a small bag clutched to her side.

“To the president’s mansion. They’ll assign us a new place to live,” said the woman.

They turned off the alley to Stuart’s house and spilled out onto one of the main avenues. “Stay to the right!” a voice ordered, and Neil saw Peacekeepers interspersed throughout the crowd, directing the flow of human traffic. Scared faces peered out of the plate-glass windows of shops and homes, which were already becoming overrun with refugees. At this rate, Stuart may have new houseguests by lunch.

It was brighter now, even with the snow picking up. Neil caught sight of Laila and Alvarez about thirty meters ahead of them, plodding along with the crowd. He craned his head around to see if he could locate Matt and the others. He couldn’t, but he had caught the eye of an inquisitive-looking little girl in a grass green coat. Neil nudged Andrew and slowed his pace ever so slightly, to allow a wall of people to form between the girl and them.

“We might need to split up,” Neil said under his breath. “There’s a girl—”

Gunfire ripped through the crowd, and several people near Neil slumped to the ground. Screams pierced the air as a second round mowed down another group behind them. Andrew pushed him down, made him scuttle the ten meters to the shops where they took cover behind a display of spike-heeled boots outside a shoe seller’s.

“Who is it? Can you see?” Andrew asked him since his view was obscured by a row of feathery footwear. What Neil could see, between alternating pairs of lavender and lemon yellow leather boots, was a street full of bodies. The little girl who had been watching him kneeled beside a motionless woman, screeching and trying to rouse her. Another wave of bullets sliced across the chest of her grass green coat, staining it with red, knocking the girl onto her back.

For a moment, looking at her tiny crumpled form, Neil lost his ability to form words. Andrew prodded him with his elbow. “Neil.”

“They’re shooting from the roof above us,” Neil said tonelessly. He watched a few more rounds, saw the white uniforms dropping into the snow streets. “Trying to take out the Peacekeepers, but they’re not exactly crack shots. It must be the rebels.” Neil couldn’t stop staring at the grass green coat. Their allies had broken through, but there was no sense of relief in him.

“We have to move on. It’s your mission,” Andrew said.

If the two of them started shooting, too, everyone would know it was them. So they went on, hugging the wall as they continued along the street. Behind a rack of framed photos of Ichirou Moriyama, they encountered a wounded Peacekeeper propped against a strip of brick wall. He asked them for help. Andrew kneed him in the side of the head and took his gun. At the intersection, he shot a second Peacekeeper and they both had firearms.

As they ran across the intersection Neil mulled over the role they were supposed to be playing. Right now they seemed to be desperate citizens of the Capitol which meant the Peacekeepers would leave them alone, and the rebels hopefully had more interesting targets. But it was way too risky. The grass green coat spoke volumes.

But by the time they reached the next block, it no longer mattered who they were. Who anyone was. Because no one was looking at faces. The rebels were there, alright. Pouring onto the avenue, taking cover in doorways, behind vehicles, guns blazing, hoarse voices shouting commands as they prepared to meet an army of Peacekeepers marching towards them. Caught in the cross fire were the refugees, unarmed, disoriented, many wounded.

A pod was activated ahead of them, releasing a gush of steam that parboiled everyone in its path, leaving the victims intestine-pink and very dead. After that, what little sense of order there had been was now unraveled.

As the remaining curlicues of steam intertwined with the snow, visibility extended just to the end of Neil’s barrel. Peacekeeper, rebel, citizen. Everything that moved was a target. People shot reflexively, and Neil was no exception. With his heart pounding, adrenaline burning through him, everyone was his enemy. Except Andrew. It was like in the arena. Ally, partner, friend. Something more.

There was nothing to do but move forward, killing whoever came into their path. Screaming people, bleeding people, dead people everywhere. When they reached the next corner, the entire block ahead lit up with a rich purple glow. Neil backpedalled, and together with Andrew he hunkered down in a stairwell, squinting into the light. Something was happening to those illuminated by it. They were assaulted by… a sound? A wave? A laser? Weapons fell from their hands, finger clutched their faces, as blood sprayed from all visible orifices – eyes, noses, mouths, ears. In less than a minute, everyone was dead and the glow vanished. Neil gritted his teeth and ran, leaping over the bodies, feet slipping in the gore. The wind whipped the snow into blinding swirls but didn’t block out the sound of another wave of boots headed their way.

“Get down!” Neil hissed at Andrew. They dropped where they were. Neil’s face landed in a still-warm pool of someone’s blood, but he played dead, remained motionless as the boots marched over them. Some avoided bodies. Other ground into his hand, his back, kicked his head in passing. As the boots receded, he opened his eyes and looked to Andrew. Blood made his blond strands sticky, and Neil remembered another time, in another life, with a party, Drake, red stained bed sheets.

On the next block, they encountered more terrified refugees, but few soldiers. Just when it seemed they might have caught a break, there was a cracking sound, like an egg hitting the side of a bowl but magnified a thousand times. Andrew and Neil stopped, looked around for the pod. There was nothing. Then Neil felt the tips of his boots beginning to tilt ever so slightly.

“Run!” he cried to Andrew. There was no time to explain, but in a few seconds the nature of the pod became clear to everyone. A seam had opened up down the center of the block. The two sides of the tiled street were folding down like flaps, slowly emptying the people into whatever lay beneath.

Neil was torn between making a beeline for the next intersection and trying to get to the doors that lined the street and break his way into a building. As a result, he ended up moving at a slight diagonal. He tried to turn his head to look for Andrew, but the flap continued to drop, and Neil found his feet scrambling, harder and harder, to find purchase on the slippery tiles. It was like running along the side of an icy hill that got steeper every step. Both of his destinations – the intersection and the buildings – were a meter away when he felt the flap going.

There was nothing to do but use the last second of connection to the tiles to push off for the intersection. As Neil’s hands latched onto the side, he realized the flaps had swung straight down. His feet dangled in the air, no foothold anywhere. From fifteen meters below, a vile stench hit Neil’s nose, like rotted corpses in the summer heat. Black forms crawled around in the shadows, silencing whoever survived the fall.

_ Hell _ , shot through Neil’s head in a moment of hysteria and panic. A strangled cry came from his throat. No one was coming to help him. He was losing his grip on the icy ledge when he saw he was only about two meters from the corner of the pod. Carefully, he inched his hands along the ledge, trying to block out the terrifying sounds from below. When his hands straddled the corner, Neil swung his right boot up over the side. It caught on something, and Neil painstakingly dragged himself up to street level. Panting, trembling, he crawled out and wrapped his arm around a lamp post for an anchor, although the ground was perfectly flat.

“Andrew?” he called into the abyss, heedless of being recognized. “Andrew?”

“I’m here. Calm down.” In bewilderment, Neil looked to his left. The flap held up everything to the very base of the buildings. A dozen or so people had made it that far and now hung from whatever provided a handhold. Doorknobs, knockers, mail slots. Three doors down from Neil, Andrew clung to the decorative iron grating around an apartment door. He could easily get inside if it was open. But despite repeated kicks to the door, no one even attempted to help him.

“Cover yourself!” Neil lifted his gun. Andrew turned away and Neil drilled the lock until the doors flew inward. Andrew swung into the doorway, landing in a heap on the floor. He caught his breath for a moment before turning around to Neil.

It was the last thing Neil saw before someone grabbed him from behind, pressing a sweet smelling cloth over his nose. Blood caked blond hair. Mouth turned into a snarl. Hazel eyes ablaze with anger. Then there was nothing but blackness.

 

The first thing Neil was aware of was cold stone beneath his cheek. He blinked a few times, trying to gain focus on his surroundings. A groan slipped past his lips as he carefully sat up. He had an awful familiar feeling about this place, which was confirmed when his nose caught up on the smell in the air. Blood and roses.

For a long moment that stretched out into eternity, Neil forgot how to breathe. He couldn’t move a single muscle in his body, everything was narrowed down to the tips of white Peacekeeper boots in his line of sight. And the smell.

“Junior’s all grown up,” a voice taunted from somewhere above the boots. Neil instinctively recoiled from it, and by doing so he stared right into her face. In contrast to his father, Lola had aged visibly in the past few years. And yet, everything about her was still the same. The toothy smile that curved her mouth too wide, threatening to split her face in two. Lips in her favorite color, red, and the sadistic glint in her eyes.

“You made quite the spectacle there. The Capitol’s darling turned rebellion leader. What a strange world we live in, but you won’t have to worry about it much longer.” She squatted down before him, grabbing his chin forcefully to take a closer look at his face. When Neil tried to push away he felt the cold metal of a gun being pressed to the back of his head and froze.

“Not so fast,” Jackson said from behind him. Neil thought he was going mad by the fear that surged from his brain to his feet. Lola yanked his head from left to right. “He’s all the daddy.” Her eyes darted up to Jackson. “You are the biggest idiot in the world. How could you not recognize him?”

The harsh clicking of a tongue. “He ran into my whip. Of course I didn’t recognize him.”

Lola scoffed and stood up. The gun didn’t leave Neil’s head so he could only follow Lola with his eyes as she moved through the cellar. The cellar. His father’s other workroom. Here he brought the people he wanted to take his time with. Like his son.

There was some rustling as Lola searched through a few drawers and shelves. When she had found what she had been looking for, she returned in casual steps, only revealing what was behind her back when she stood right in front of Neil. She slowly uncurled the whip and let it dangle in front of Neil’s face like she was playing with a cat.

“You mean like this?” she asked Jackson. And before Neil even knew what was happening, Lola had raised the whip and struck him over the right side of his face. The pain exploded immediately, blinded him. In the very last second he held back a scream of agony, and instead let out a quiet whimper. He didn’t know whether he felt blood streaming down his cheek or tears. Maybe a mix of both.

“Now come here and look at him. Don’t tell me he doesn’t look like fucking Junior.”

Jackson was moving around to get a look at Neil’s face. He grunted something and Lola dug her fingernails in the raw skin around his wound. This time he cried out.

“Now that I know of fucking course he looks like him,” Jackson said. “Don’t get carried away. The Boss will be here any minute.”

That made Neil’s stomach roil inside him. He was dazed by the pain, paralyzed by fear, but his instinct made him push away. He crawled backwards until his back hit the wall. Lola and Jackson both watched him, Jackson blankly and Lola grinning.

“How long until he comes back?” Lola asked.

“He was on his way when I talked to him last.”

The bloody whip fell from Lola’s grip like a toy that was no longer interesting. “Great, that leaves enough time to tell little Nathaniel what I’m going to do with him once his father is done. That is, if there is enough left of him.”

Neil had a hard time following, he blinked and suddenly Lola stood on the other side of the cellar. Another moment passed and she was back, right in his face. “You took many more hits in the arena, boy. Don’t act like passing out now.” She placed a box between his legs. Neil blinked slowly at it, not understanding. Then he heard it. He had thought the static was in his head, from the whip, but it was the increasing clicking that came out of the box.

“I was so disappointed that no one ran into them during the Games.” Lola gave the box a little shake which increased the angry clicking. “You weren’t wrong, you know? They are insects and they aren’t mechanical. A mutt experiment I worked on the past few years. Only one of them is enough to eat through your flesh in mere seconds. Even the bones! No more body disposal.” She teased him by opening the lid of the box a few millimeters and laughed at his flinch. “I’m going to film this. Your friends will love it. The blond one was so angry when I knocked you out.”

The thought of Andrew hit Neil with another wave of nausea. At least he knew he was safe. But Matt and Dan and the others? He had lost sight of them only seconds after leaving Stuart’s house. “Fuck you,” he said through gritted teeth. Her constant talking grated on his nerves.

“Someone’s feisty,” she laughed. She pushed the box closer to Neil, tapping with her fingernails on top of it. “I know you father’s going to ask, but I have to know now. Where’s the bird, hm? Where was she while her brat was running around causing trouble?”

“She’s dead,” Neil choked out. The clicking grew more aggressive. It was as if they could sense his fear. The fresh blood.

Lola grabbed a fistful of hair to yank him upright. A hand clenched around Neil’s throat so tight he could barely breathe. She knocked his head against the wall, making his vision swim. The lack of air and clicking made Neil put up a desperate fight. “She’s dead,” he wheezed through Lola’s brutal grip. “She died over two years ago when he beat her in 8. Do you think she’d have let me get reaped if she was still alive?”

“Do I believe you? You’ve always been a pretty, little liar. Could fool them with your big, blue eyes. That’s how you got that blond one around? Fluttering with your eyelashes and playing coy?” Her grip tightened and Neil started to thrash around. “Well, let’s wait and hear what father has to say.” She considered him before she smacked his injured face as hard as she could.

She left him, then. The box with the flesh eating insects still between his legs. The clicking turned into a buzz, and Neil thought he was trapped in an endless nightmare, unable to move, unable to die. Dead, but not allowed to die. Alive, but as good as dead. That was until he heard the door being opened at the top of the stairs. It echoed like a gunshot through the cellar. Lola was on her feet in a heartbeat. Neil thought his heart was being ripped out of his chest, so hard it raced inside him. At Lola’s interested stare he knew he couldn’t afford to look afraid, though. He locked a calm expression on his face and watched death come downstairs for him.

He was wearing his Peacekeeper uniform. Bloodied and dirtied, but still so impressively white. His sleeves were rolled up, and Neil could see the red staining his bare hands and arms. Cool blue eyes settled on Neil, and Neil had to look away. Behind Nathan was another monster from Neil’s nightmares. Patrick DiMaccio carried himself like he could take on half the world bare-handed, and he probably could. He was one of the few people who had never laid a hand on Nathaniel or Mary, maybe knowing he could kill them with one careless hit.

“On your feet,” Nathan said. The sound of his voice was enough to turn Neil’s stomach into jelly. “You know better than to sit in my presence.”

Neil told himself to stay put, but he was already getting up. This instinct ran deeper than his attitude problem or his mother’s fight or flight lessons. Lola laughed at that easy obedience and made a circle of the room so she could stand behind Neil.

“Hello, Junior,” Nathan said.

Neil’s jaw worked. Even if he wanted to respond he couldn’t. Nathan crossed the room towards him. It took everything Neil had left to hold his ground. Nathan stopped in front of him. So close, Neil could smell the smoke and blood on him. Neil stared at the red splashes on the white armored chest like they could open up and soak him in.

The blow was inevitable, Neil expected it, but his knees still buckled when his father punched the gash the whip had left over his right side. He caught Neil by his throat as he fell. Neil choked and scrabbled to find his feet again, knowing better than to grab Nathan for balance. He knew what his father would do if he touched him.

“I said hello,” Nathan said when Neil was upright again.

It took him three tries before he managed a quiet, “Hello.”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Neil thought he would scream. It got stuck somewhere on the way from his chest to his throat, though. He remembered the few occasions he had almost given up, and mustered up those last reserves of strength to lift his gaze up to his father’s face.

“Look at you. Pathetic like your mother. Where is she?”

“You killed her. Don’t you remember?” Neil said.

“I would remember. I would have savored the memory while counting down the days to finding you again.”

“You broke her,” Neil said. “She only made it as far as outside District 8.”

Nathan examined Neil as he seemed to be turning this revelation around in his head. He cupped Neil’s battered face in his hands and squeezed so hard, the wound split even further. Neil could practically see the skin being ripped apart in his mind.

“So you thought hiding in plain sight was a viable option? Playing games with me? You had to know I would find you eventually. You’ve never been that good at hiding.”

“You sold me. I was where you wanted me to be. And I made it through the Games two times,” Neil said. “I wasn’t your problem anymore.”

“The transaction was never finalized. Tetsuji did not agree to take you because you were not around long enough to convince him. That means you still belong to me,” Nathan said. “You and your stupid bitch of a mother made a liar of me. Do you know what I’m going to do to you?”

When Neil could only stare numbly up at him, he answered his own question. “I’m not entirely sure just yet, myself. I’ve had a couple of years to think it over, but now that the time has come, I’m indecisive. I might skin you alive. I might take you apart one inch at a time and cauterize the wounds. But to be quite honest, when I rewatched your first Games, aware of who I was seeing there, I got a much better idea.” Almost gentle Nathan laid his palm over the burn scar under Neil’s eye. It made Neil widen his eyes in horror.

“What did they call you? The boy on fire?” Nathan pressed his thumb in the marred skin. “I like that.”

Suddenly Neil was grabbed from behind by Lola and dragged backwards. Neil struggled as much as he could, but it was fruitless. Until he smashed his head under her chin. A satisfying crunch could be heard when her teeth clacked hard together, and she had most likely bitten her tongue. The next moment, Neil bolted for the door, but didn’t make it far. DiMaccio picked him up in one motion and threw him onto the floor. Neil’s head banged against the concrete.

_ Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit _ , echoed through Neil’s head when he scrambled backwards under the vicious look of his father. He tried getting to his feet, but a boot in his ribcage sent him sprawling. A fist to the face killed his next attempt, and then his father was sitting on top of him with his hands around Neil’s throat.

“It was fascinating to watch the skin melt off your face. Painful, wasn’t it?” he said casually. “And you didn’t pass out. Maybe I’ll change my mind in a few hours but for now I’ll stick to that. Patrick, have someone toss us down the blowtorch. It should still be in the drawer by the oven.”

“No,” Neil said, but DiMaccio went to the base of the stairs to call up.

“Lola,” Nathan said, and Lola came immediately to his side. She wasn’t grinning anymore, blood stains on her chin. The look she turned on Neil was venomous. Nathan didn’t look up from his son’s face but said, “Remove the pants. We start with the legs.”

“No,” Neil said again, but Lola crouched out of sight. Then he felt someone pulling on his boots. Neil tried to kick her in the face, but her grip was strong and then the horrifying feeling of her hands opening his belt made him freeze. “No,” he breathed out. “No.” He had said no. They should stop. He had said no. Stop.

The cold air hit his naked legs unprepared. Neil was trembling so hard by now it was a wonder he didn’t shake his father off. “Please,” he whispered, unable to stop himself. “Please don’t.”

DiMaccio was back. He offered the blowtorch to Nathan who told DiMaccio to grab Neil’s legs and Lola to hold his arms over his head. Even as his father stood up to turn on the blowtorch, Neil could feel the heat all the way down from where he was pinned to the floor. He wanted to scream, but if he screamed now he’d really lose it and wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Please,” he begged again. “Just let me go, just let me go, I’m not—”

He was on fire. The smell of charred skin only made the blinding pain worse and Neil lost it. Or at least he thought he did. Was he screaming? The flame licked over his thigh he was sure of it. Or his father had just set his whole leg on fire. It transformed him into something new. A creature as unquenchable as the sun.

A fire mutt knew only a single sensation: agony. No sight, no sound, no feeling except the unrelenting burning of flesh. Perhaps there were periods of unconsciousness, but what did they matter when he couldn’t find refuge in them. He became Roland’s boy on fire, for sure. Consumed by his own flames, but to no end. Finally, the flames seemed to be suffocating, and Neil waded through muddy water, the color of hazel eyes. It lapped against his legs, which continued to burn beneath the water, but the agony quieted to pain. When he was adrift and unable to navigate, that was when they came. The dead. The living. The ones he loved flew as birds in the open sky above him. Soaring, weaving, calling him to join them. They split up in separate directions, and Neil didn’t know which ones he should follow.

Then the monsters took to the water, horrible scaled things that tore his salty flesh with needle teeth. Biting again and again. Dragging him beneath the surface.

Deep in the water, he was deserted by all. There was only the sound of his breathing, the enormous effort it took to draw water in, push it out of his lungs. He wanted to stop, he tried to hold his breath, but the muddy water forced its way in and out against his will. Made him continue. In and out. In and out.

Trapped for hours, days, years maybe. So alone that anyone, anything would be welcome. No, not anyone. But when he finally had a visitor, it was sweet. Morphling. Coursing through his veins, easing the pain, lightening his body so that it rose back towards the air and rested on a soft, smooth surface.

Capitol sheets. It felt like the sheets in his old room during the preparations for the Games. Silky and cool. He could feel it under the tips of his fingers, cradling his naked legs. There was much pain, but there was also something like reality. The sandpaper of his throat. The smell of burn medicine from the first arena. The sound of Matt’s voice. And a hand in his hair.

He couldn’t speak. Not a word. He saw many faces in the dazzling white Capitol hospital. Nicky’s watery eyes, Matt relieved smile, Dan’s tired expression. There was Wymack, serious and unsmiling, Abby with her hands clutched over her mouth. Allison and Renee, both fierce and unyielding. Roland and Jeremy. Jean and Kevin. And Andrew. Eyes burning with anger, hands clenched into fists by his sides. Alive. They were alive.

The doctor’s puzzlement grew over why he was unable to speak. Many tests were done. Apparently he had screamed himself raw, but his vocal cords were still intact. Finally, Betsy came up with the theory that he had become a mental, rather than a vocal Avox. That Neil’s silence had been brought on by emotional trauma. Although she was presented with a hundred proposed remedies, she told them to leave him alone. Neil wasn’t so sure about her idea either, for him it felt simply like he had nothing to say. He appreciate her intervention, however.

So he didn’t speak to anyone, but people brought him a steady stream of information.

The Capitol had fallen the day Neil had been captured by Lola. President Whittier led Panem now, and troops had been sent out to put down the small remaining pockets of Capitol resistance. Neil’s father was dead. Shot by his Uncle Stuart. So was Patrick DiMaccio. Lola Malcolm, her brother Romero, Jackson Plank and many others awaited trial. Ichirou Moriyama was being held prisoner, awaiting his own trial and most certain execution. Riko Moriyama, Doctor Proust and a few nameless people were on the run. Neil’s family had survived. Andrew had nearly ripped Lola’s throat out with his bare teeth according to Matt. They had found him.

It was late at night with only Andrew in his room when Neil found the courage to take in his physical damage. Even without words, Andrew understood him. He lifted the blanket that hid Neil’s legs from the outside world. Apart from Abby and the doctor, no one had seen his injuries until now.

Neil didn’t remember what had happened to him once his father had started to melt the skin off his legs. There was no telling what would await him. For a moment, he wanted to send Andrew out, but changed his mind the next second. If someone could take it, it was Andrew.

His father’s last gift consisted of burned stripes that went over both of his legs in form of half-finished rings. The pattern reminded him of Sir with his orange striped legs. In Neil’s case they didn’t reach around his whole leg, only half of it and stopped over his knee. He had no idea what his father had thought by using that shape. Only that it looked horribly wrong, and Neil hastily pulled the blanket back up to his chest.

His eyes met Andrew’s by the side of his bed. “Yes or no?” Andrew asked.

Without thinking, Neil opened his mouth to reply. When nothing came out, he reached up to his throat in surprise. He looked to Andrew. Tried again. A low gasp escaped his mouth. When he finally managed a small “Yes”, it sounded raw and bleeding. Andrew watched him for another moment, then removed the blanket from his legs. His rough knuckles brushed over the tender skin of the burned stripes. He followed their way around Neil’s thigh and back again.

“Andrew?” Neil asked hoarsely.

Andrew’s eyes flickered up to Neil’s face.

“Thank you.”

The hand on his leg reached up to press its palm down on Neil’s beating heart. It stayed there for the rest of the night as Andrew rested his head on his folded arm on Neil’s mattress, and clenched and unclenched his hand in the thin fabric of the hospital gown.

“You’re over one hundred now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the last one!! Followed by an epilog. My god, I still can't believe we've made it this far.


	28. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter!!! (the epilogue is just gonna be soft nonsense without any actual story so this is the last story relevant chapter)  
> I want to thank you all so much! Everyone who left kudos or even took the time to write a comment! Thank you! My wonderful beta who was so patient and reliable♥ Thank you so much!

Bit by bit Neil learned about the whole story. After Lola had captured him, Andrew had returned to Stuart’s house, picking up Renee and Matt along the way. They had lost Dan and Jeremy somewhere in the chaos. Stuart had brought them to Neil’s old home, near the City Circle. With Stuart’s people, some rebels and enough firepower they had been able to overpower the Butcher’s men in and around the house. In the cellar they had found Neil, screaming and screaming and screaming. Lola would probably have difficulties speaking for a long time, Matt told him. They had had to drag Andrew off her before he killed her with his bare hands. When Neil glanced over to Andrew at that he said nothing. He simply sat there, staring at the white hospital walls, indifferent to his surroundings. He hadn’t left Neil’s bedside even once.

Eventually, Neil was released from the hospital and given a room in the president’s mansion to share with Andrew. It felt like a sick joke to him, but there was no way for Kevin or Whittier to know what had happened at this place. Their room might be on the other side of the building and look completely different, but the memory of what had occurred in this house kept Andrew on the sofa at night and plagued his sleep with nightmares.

Neil had trouble finding sleep, too. The stripes of damaged skin felt hot to him, and every time he accidentally brushed against them he flinched away. The nightly hours were more often than not spent on the balcony attached to their room, with shared cigarettes and no words between them. They hadn’t talked about the events of the past few weeks yet. In fact, Andrew had hardly said anything to Neil and even less to anyone else. He kept to Neil’s side at all times, though, as Neil took to some old habits from District 13. Together with Andrew he wandered unauthorized through the mansion. They found strange little hiding spaces. Like a closet of furs. A cabinet in the library, which turned out to be Andrew’s favorite place. If he didn’t talk to Neil he would sometimes read from the many, many books there. When they truly wanted to vanish they sought out a dusty room of discarded furniture. All of these spots were dim and quiet and impossible to find. Here Neil got used to his new scars, to the feeling of Andrew touching and even kissing them. The soft feeling of Andrew’s lips soothed the aching heat and slowly managed to turn it into something pleasurable.

While he and Andrew stumbled around, trying to gain a foothold under these confusing, new conditions, life went on for the outside world. Aaron, Katelyn and Abby were constantly busy saving the world. Too many wounded and not enough healers. Kevin was immersed in his work of state building, bent on establishing his form of democracy under President Whittier’s rule. Alvarez and Laila had been sent out into the districts to cover the wreckage of the war. Jeremy, who had caught two bullets during the rebel’s attack on the Capitol, was still in hospital. Nicky, Matt and Dan had their own quarters in the mansion. They were Neil’s and Andrew’s only connection to the outside world by keeping them updated on recent events. That was how Neil came to know that Jean and his sister had been reunited in 13 and were to be flown in for Ichirou’s trial.

The time of the verdict drew near, although Neil couldn’t tell the exact days and hours since his release from the hospital. Everything bled into endless nights and fleeting days. Only the stolen moments with Andrew and his friends felt real. That was, until one day Roland stood in the doorway. Andrew was meeting Betsy somewhere in the mansion after a particularly bad night, and Neil sat alone in a cushioned window seat, watching the snow fall and cover everything in pristine white. Just like his father’s uniform.

The knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. Almost relieved he called the visitor in, welcoming every kind of distraction. The sight of Roland, without crutches, lightened Neil’s mood vastly.

“It’s time,” Roland greeted him.

Confused, Neil looked back outside as if the answer was there. “For what?”

“President Whittier intends to discuss Ichirou’s verdict with a few people before making it public. He wants you to be present.”

“Present,” Neil echoed. If that was what President Whittier wanted, then who was he to refuse such a request? They always wanted something from him. “What about Andrew?”

Roland didn’t come closer. He also didn’t ask Neil to turn around to look at him. “Him, too. I’ll tell him when he returns. For now, I am supposed to make sure you look presentable.”

Neil scoffed at that. “Just like the good old times.” He was so beyond caring. All he wanted was to go home. Wherever that was. He only knew where it wasn’t, and that was in the Capitol, the presidential mansion, only two doors from his childhood home.

Roland sent him to a bath he had drawn for him. The tub was deep, with three steps to the bottom. When he was naked and alone, there was no way to ignore the burning marks on his thighs. As he eased down into the warm water and sat up to his neck in suds, he tried to stop himself from obsessively stroking over the uneven skin on his legs. The scar on his face’s right side, the remnant of Lola whipping him and his father digging into the wound, was almost forgotten under these circumstances.

He couldn’t relax like this. At all. His thoughts circled around the lost hours in the cellar. Again and again he tried to recall what had happened to him, but everything after the initial smell of charred skin remained in darkness. He couldn’t remember being rescued. There was only agony and pain. At night he heard the flesh eating beetles clicking in his dreams. Even now he couldn’t help imagining the water turning into thousands of those insects, devouring him completely.

Neil was about to rise and reach for his towel, ready to flee the bathroom, when the door opened. Andrew slipped in and closed it behind himself. Their eyes met over the tub’s rim with Neil sitting in an awkward, half upright position. Without another word Andrew began to undress, only keeping his underwear on. Neil tried his best not to stare, not sure if Andrew would welcome it.

“You can look, stupid,” Andrew said as he tossed the bundle of clothes carelessly in a corner.

Neil slipped further into the water until the foam almost reached the tip of his nose. He glanced up to where Andrew stood with his arms crossed, staring blankly back. Neil tried not to rake his eyes too obviously over the pale skin, but he just couldn’t help it. The blond hair covering Andrew’s chest, the broad shoulders, the shape of his navel, and, of course, the path of light hair leading under the waistband of his black underwear.

It wasn’t long before Andrew had had enough. “Move over.”

Puzzled, Neil blinked at the wide space of the tub. It was built to hold more than two people. Maybe four or five even. And that was measured for people in Kevin’s size. Someone like Neil could probably go diving in here. “Do you want my spot?”

“No, you idiot. I want you to move over. Yes or no?”

Neil’s heart took a leap at that implication. “Yes!” he replied, unashamed of his own eagerness. He scooted forwards until there was enough room for Andrew to settle down behind him. When he was seated comfortably, he pulled Neil back until he was locked securely between Andrew’s legs, back flush against his chest.

“Is that okay?” Neil asked with his head resting against Andrew’s shoulder.

“I’ll tell you when I change my mind. Now shut up, you’ve been overthinking again. You’re too tense.”

When Andrew started to kiss Neil’s ear and his hands found their way to Neil’s stomach and legs, rubbing over them in even motions, Neil remembered why this was his favorite place in the entire world. All the pent-up anxiety, tension and nervousness seeped right out of his muscles and left nothing but a feeling of security and comfort behind. And when Andrew eventually reached between Neil’s legs, allowing Neil to find some purchase by gripping his knees, there was no more room for any coherent thought, much less for any uneasiness or worries.

Afterwards, Roland awaited Neil with a knowing smile which Neil ignored easily. They waited in silence for Andrew to finish up in the bathroom. As it turned out, Roland’s idea of presentable consisted of some haircutting, nail polishing and picking out the right outfit. He didn’t even ask if Neil wanted to conceal the scars on his face, he had no make-up with him to begin with.

“I think we’re done with pretending,” he said. “There’s no need to sugarcoat a war.” The right outfit turned out to be his propo outfit without the additional armor and weapons. The last touch was the orange fox paw pin. Roland carefully secured it over Neil’s heart as if it was a shield, designed to protect him.

Allison came in, perfectly styled from the silver snowflake clips in her hair to the tips of her knee-high leather boots, and ushered them to a part of the mansion Neil had never been to before. She opened a double door for them but didn’t follow inside. Instead she closed it behind them, leaving Neil and Andrew in a room where eight people sat around a table. Dan, Matt, Renee, Jean, Janie, Kevin, Epona and Wymack. They all wore the same black rebel uniform from District 13. No one looked particularly well, which should be considered an improvement for Jean. He looked livelier than any other time Neil had seen him before.

“What’s this?” Neil asked.

“We’re not sure,” Wymack answered. “It appears to be a gathering of the remaining victors.”

Neil took in the small group in front of him. Including him and Andrew, ten altogether. Ten out of thirty-five. “We’re all that’s left?”

“The price of celebrity,” said Janie. “We were targeted from both sides. The Capitol killed the victors they suspected of being rebels. The rebels killed those thought to be allied with the Capitol.”

Kevin scrutinized Epona disdainfully. “Still wondering what she’s doing here.”

“She’s here because of the information she was ready to share with us. We captured over fifty Capitol fugitives with her help,” said Whittier as he entered behind Neil. “Among them were Romero Malcolm and Ichirou Moriyama’s personal assistant.”

Epona smiled at Kevin. “According to that logic we should pardon every second prisoner,” Kevin said. He was probably more annoyed over the fact that he hadn’t known about this, than Epona getting away unpunished.

“Sit down, please, Neil, Andrew,” said Whittier. Just then Neil noticed that the president wasn’t alone. Stuart gave him a quick nod as a greeting before taking the seat to Whittier’s right. Neil and Andrew followed suit and settled on the last two remaining chairs. As usual, Whittier got right to the point. “I’ve asked you here to settle a debate. Tomorrow we will execute Ichirou Moriyama as the council agreed upon last night. However, the suffering in the districts has been so extreme that the usual way of carrying out this procedure appears insufficient to the victims.” Hanging, shooting, beheading. The usual way. Neil licked over his lips. They wanted Ichirou to suffer.

“So, an alternative has been placed on the table. Since my colleagues and I can come to no consensus on whether we should handle this situation according to protocol or grant an exception in this case, it has been agreed that we will let the victors decide. A majority of six will approve the plan. If it ends in a draw, Stuart will have the last word. No one may abstain from the vote,” said Whittier. “What has been proposed is that Ichirou Moriyama shall suffer the same fate as the tribute with the cruelest death in the history of the Hunger Games. Trapped in a cage under the beating sun without any water or food. The tribute died after rats appeared and gnawed through his flesh, making him bleed out after hours of torture.”

All ten victors turned to him. “What?” Dan said.

“It’s a compromise. Many insisted on making another Hunger Games with the children and spouses of the Capitol officials. Including Ichirou Moriyama’s child and wife. We thought this might satisfy the thirst for blood with a minimum of casualties,” Whittier explained.

“Are you joking?” Matt asked.

“No. It’s in our interest to maintain a sustainable population. And the families of the Capitol officials are mostly innocent citizens. We see no gain in killing them needlessly. You may cast your votes now.”

“No!” Dan called out, somewhat agitated. “I vote no! This is sick. Justice will be served if he’s executed. We don’t need to torture him for that!”

“Why not?” Epona retorted. “Let him have a taste of his own medicine. I vote yes.”

Matt shook his head. “This is why we rebelled. There is no need for cruelty. I’m with Dan and vote no.”

“No,” Janie said. “It would set a bad precedent. We have to stop viewing one another as enemies. At this point the people have to see we’re not on the same level as the Moriyamas. No.”

There was a moment of tense silence. Everyone eyed one another warily. Finally, Jean said, “I vote yes.” Without any explanation. Kevin frowned while raking his fingers through his hair. “I’m with Jean. Yes.”

“I agree with Janie and Matt,” Renee said. “We have to stop now. No.”

“We’re down to Neil, Andrew and David,” Stuart remarked.

Neil chewed on his bottom lip. All this time, running with his mother, surviving two Hunger Games, fighting for a cause he did not even care about, and he had never viewed Ichirou as his main threat. His father and Riko, yes. His whole revenge plan had been based on killing Riko and now he was supposed to decide over his brother’s death. For all Neil cared, they could release Ichirou the next minute and crown him King. It had been all about Riko for him. Riko. Riko. Riko. Neil blinked. He weighed his options carefully, thought everything through before he announced his conclusion. “I vote yes. But I want to talk to him beforehand.”

Whittier nodded. “That is doable.” To Wymack and Andrew he said, “Gentlemen?”

Neil felt Andrew watching him. Without hiding anything from him, Neil returned his look. Andrew nodded. “Yes.”

Now it was up to Wymack. Dan gripped the table so hard her knuckles turned white. Renee’s eyes were razor sharp as she waited patiently for the final word. Wymack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m with our rebellion leader. Yes.”

“Excellent. That carries the vote,” said Whittier. “Stuart will show you the way to Ichirou, Neil. Everyone else, have a good day. Tomorrow morning we’ll make the verdict public.”

 

The Moriyama mansion appeared to be even bigger than Neil had initially thought. Stuart led him through corridors and doors and more corridors. They didn’t talk, but the silence between them wasn’t a comfortable one. It felt awkward like they both wanted to break it but couldn’t find the right topic for conversation.

“You trust him, don’t you?” Stuart said eventually. It made Neil almost flinch back in surprise. He masked it by tugging at a few strands of his hair. “What?”

“Minyard. I watched your first Games and he… he looked out for you.” This was certainly something Neil did _not_ want to talk about. He was already uncomfortable enough with the prospect of facing Ichirou Moriyama again. His uncle poking around in his and Andrew’s relationship was the last thing he needed right now.

“I wouldn’t be alive without him,” Neil replied vaguely.

“And he wouldn’t be alive without you,” Stuart shot back, somewhat impatient. “He was pretty quick to follow your example earlier…”

A little suspicious, Neil glanced over to his uncle. “I’m not sure what you’re implying here. Whatever it is, stop it. Andrew only did what he wanted to do. My decision had nothing to with it.”

“And what about you? You only doing what you want to do?”

For a second, Neil thought he had just misheard. But no, his uncle had just said that. “I won’t talk to you about Andrew. And before you start it, I know about the birds and the bees.”

Stuart snorted. It made Neil’s heart lurch in his chest. He just sounded so much like his mother. Not that his mother had laughed much in her last few years, but sometimes even she had been able to relax enough.

They turned a corner and Neil found himself staring at two surprised guards. They weren’t soldiers from 13. These two, a man and a woman, wore the tattered, thrown-together clothes of actual rebels. Still bandaged and gaunt. Stuart greeted them politely and then said, “Neil Josten to see Ichirou Moriyama. On the president’s authority.”

The guards nodded and let Neil pass. Stuart would wait for his return with them.

At the end of a short hallway, Neil pushed apart the thick teak doors and stepped inside. The cold, dry air felt good on his hot skin. It was like the heat from the burns on his face and legs had crept over his whole body, leaving a feverish feeling behind. The fresh air filling his lungs was like a wake-up call.

It was a study. The wall to Neil’s left consisted of a three meter high bookshelf, filled up to the last spot with books. In the middle of the room sat an enormous desk that reminded Neil a lot of his father’s. Nathan had never been in need of a desk, since his paperwork had been done by some footman. But he had liked to show off his wealth with unnecessary purchases. When Neil turned right he saw Ichirou. He was staring out of an opened window, stiff as a statue and a cup of tea in his hand. He didn’t turn around when he said, “I am not sure if I should be surprised that you’ve found your way to my quarters, or not.”

His quarters. Neil had trespassed into his home, the way Ichirou had sneaked into Neil’s last year, delivering threats in his calm, detached manner. This study was one of his rooms, perhaps the place he had sealed all of his deals regarding government affairs. What kind of arena would be used this year? What new cruel twist could keep the audience enamored? And now it was part of his prison.

“I’d like to make a proposal,” Neil said unceremoniously. This made Ichirou actually turn around to him. His face, of course, did not betray anything. But he inclined his head, indicating to Neil to sit down with him in the sitting area by the fireplace. Two armchairs facing each other over a small table. Neil accepted the invitation.

The ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner and the burning wood were the only sounds between them. Neither said a word for two minutes, Ichirou waiting Neil patiently out, while Neil was busy looking everywhere but Ichirou’s face. He watched the flames in the fireplace instead, imagined the blackened wood to be his mother’s bones and, after another moment, his own legs.

“I want you to tell me where Riko and Proust are hiding. And before you deny having such knowledge, don’t bother. I know you know. Or at least you have a good guess,” Neil said eventually. He tried to hold Ichirou’s gaze stubbornly.

Ichirou folded his hands in his lap, unconcerned. “And why should I tell you anything? There is nothing you could offer me. You might have been the face of this rebellion, but you don’t hold any actual power, Nathaniel Wesninski.”

The name was still a sore wound, and Ichirou understood that. Neil swallowed, looked away. The cold on his back from the open window and the heat from the fire in his face made him uneasy. He had to pull himself together.

“Do you remember all deaths from the Games? Or only the victors? Did you even watch them?” Neil asked.

Ichirou’s eyes looked like two oil drops, his pupil and iris almost indistinguishable. “I used to watch the highlights during the victor’s ceremony.”

Neil nodded slowly. “Any particular deaths that stuck with you?”

“I see no use in remembering past details,” Ichirou said without sounding arrogant or malicious. He was simply… pragmatic. Very much different from Riko or Nathan.

“Maybe you should start thinking then. As a matter of revenge, they want to reenact the most gruesome death in the Games for your execution. Do you know what that means?” Ichirou made a gesture that prompted Neil to elaborate. “You’re supposed to be locked up in a cage under extreme heat without any water or food. After a while they will sent in the rats. It’s going to take hours for it to be over. Maybe even days.”

There was no reaction from Ichirou, except for the slight arch of his eyebrow. Neil found it was time to lay his cards on the table. “I won’t be able to prevent your death nor am I particularly interested in doing so. But I can offer you an alternative in exchange for information.” Without breaking eye contact, Neil reached up to his shoulder with the tiny extra pocket that only served one purpose. He placed the deep red pill between them on the table. “Foxbite,” he explained. “It’s the same poison as in those berries.”

Again, Ichirou had nothing to say. But his eyes were fixated on the innocent-looking pill. It wasn’t bigger than the nail of Neil’s pinky. It would kill someone with Ichirou’s stature before it could even reach the stomach. “I’ll leave it here and you can do whatever you want with it. Just tell me where your brother and the doctor have run to. You do know that without Riko none of this would have happened. If he had told your father right away about me, I would have been dead before the Victory Tour. No rebellion. No war.”

And with that, Neil was out of arguments. Of course, he could list every last of Riko’s numerous failures, but Ichirou already knew about them. He wasn’t keeping his brother’s whereabouts a secret out of brotherly love. He simply saw no advantage for himself if he helped his enemies.

With his thumb and index finger, Ichirou took the pill and held it against the light for inspection. “How do I know this will actually work?”

“You don’t,” Neil replied. “Just as I won’t know if you told the truth until I see it for myself. But I seem to recall that we had agreed not to lie to each other.”

Neil almost believed there was some sort of amusement in Ichirou’s expression when he placed the pill back on the table. “You know, you might have changed your name and left your past behind. But you are your father’s son. A Wesninski to the core,” Ichirou said in his clinical tone. “Fine. I see no sense in protecting my brother’s person any longer. We might as well make it a deal.”

Out in the hall, Neil found Stuart standing in exactly the same spot. “Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked.

Neil suppressed the urge to touch his empty shoulder pocket. He simply nodded and then followed his uncle trance-like back to his room. Andrew was already there, lying in the bed, his whole body except the face wrapped in a blanket, and reading a book. He didn’t glance up at Neil’s arrival.

For a moment, Neil watched him numbly. He had no idea how much time he had left before the phase of his plan kicked in that he couldn’t control. Trusting someone that wasn’t his mother or Andrew to protect him could very easily backfire. Drawing in a shaking breath, Neil grabbed the cigarette pack from the nightstand, shook out two and offered Andrew one wordlessly.

Once they were settled on the balcony, sharing a blanket and a lighter, Neil told Andrew about Ichirou. Andrew, on his part, did not react throughout the whole story. “I don’t know how much time I’ll have until they find out I was the one who gave him the pill. But when it happens, I trust Uncle Stuart and Kevin to find a way out for me. So, uhm… don’t hurt anyone,” Neil said in conclusion.

Andrew stubbed out his cigarette and took Neil’s half finished one from his fingers. “This is ridiculous.”

Neil shrugged. “It was the only way to find Riko.”

“You could just leave it. He is unimportant,” Andrew said.

“But you don’t like breaking promises. And you gave Proust one, after all. I try to do the same, you know,” Neil replied. “Stick by my word.”

Without taking his eyes off the cigarette in his hand, Andrew pushed Neil’s head away. “I’m the one who’s going to kill you. If someone takes that pleasure from me, they are dead.”

Neil hid his smile behind a hand and slid a little closer to Andrew under the blanket. “Did you know that when you’re cold you’re supposed to undress under a blanket to share body heat?” he asked jokingly. That earned him a dry look. Neil laughed, and kept on smiling when Andrew silenced him with annoyed, demanding kisses. Even with his clothes still on, he felt plenty warm.

They came the next morning. Several soldiers from District 13 stormed the room, grabbing for Neil and barking orders. Despite Neil’s words from the day before, Andrew threw punches left and right, snarling at everyone that came too close. However, the only thing he achieved by doing that was him being handcuffed and blindfolded alongside Neil. After that, everything was narrowed down to the feeling of being half dragged, half carried down long passages, up and down elevators and eventually being deposited on a carpet floor.

The cuffs were removed and a door slammed shut behind Neil. When he pushed the blindfold up, he found he was in his old room at the Training Center. The one where he had lived during those last days before his first Hunger Games and the Anniversary Games. The bed was stripped to the mattress, the closet gaped open, showing the emptiness inside, but Neil would know this room anywhere.

More importantly, he was alone. They had separated him from Andrew. Most likely to question him, whether he had possessed any knowledge about Neil’s plan to take the people’s last chance of revenge away or not. A terrible feeling overcame Neil. He always confronted others with his half baked plans for which they had to pay the price in the end. What if they started to drug Andrew again? Found other ways to torture him? Neil certainly wouldn’t put it past Whittier and the rebels to do such things. They were just the same as the Capitol in many aspects. Who knew if they wouldn’t just turn the tables and make the Capitol citizens suffer for the years of injustice?

It was a struggle to get to his feet. The soldiers hadn’t been gentle, and Neil felt bruises forming on his arms and shoulders. He dragged himself to the bed where he flopped down on his back, eyes set on the lights on the ceiling that formed a starry night.

What then followed were days of complete isolation and solitude. Not even in the year after his mother’s death had Neil felt so… abandoned. No human contact. No talking. Nothing. When he used the bathroom he returned to a tray with food and clothing to change. Every single time. There was nothing for Neil but to lie on the naked mattress and watch the snow fall on the ledge outside his window. After a while he started doing sit-ups and push-ups. He turned on the shower and simply sat under the hot spray, blocking out images of Andrew pushing him against the tiled wall. Sometimes he stared at the door and hoped for Allison’s sharp knocking. But there was nothing. Time lost meaning and the days bled together in a foggy mess. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night and wondered if he had just slept two hours or a whole day. Maybe his trust in his uncle and Kevin had reached too far. Both served the rebel’s cause, after all. Why should they help him?

After another two days, or maybe five, of Neil pacing his prison like a caged animal, the door opened. Wymack appeared. And behind him, Kevin. “Your trial’s over,” Wymack said. “Come on. You’re going home.”

Home? “What are you talking about?” Neil peered past him to Kevin who shuffled awkwardly in the doorway before he finally entered. He crossed over to Neil and gave him the much needed explanation.

Ichirou had taken his life the same night after Neil’s visit. His body had been found in the early morning hours, and it had taken Whittier only five minutes to know whose doing it had been. Since Kevin had been appointed secretary of communication, which meant he set the programming for the airwaves, he had made Neil’s trial the first big televised event, in which he had also been a witness. In Neil’s defense, of course. Although most of the credit for Neil’s exoneration must be given to Betsy and Abby, who apparently had presented Neil as a severely traumatized individual who was not only physically scarred for life but also mentally. One condition for his release was that he would be confined in District 12 until further notice. The truth, according to Kevin, however was that no one quite knew what to do with Neil now that the war was over. His presence was nothing but a reminder of blood and fighting when it was time to make space for healing. That was all to it. Kevin wouldn’t or couldn’t say more. Only the bare minimum of information for the rebel’s troublemaker. If Neil had once been the face, the fire burning for this rebellion, he was now dying cinders and cooling ashes.

“What about Andrew?” Neil asked.

“He’ll come with you,” Wymack answered. “We’ll get you to him.”

Kevin and Wymack accompanied him to the roof, onto a hovercraft, where Andrew was waiting. He pushed his guard aside and stopped only a few centimeters from Neil, checking his body for any visible injuries by eying him up and down. “Did they touch you?” The underlying anger was even for outsiders audible. Neil shook his head. “I’m— I’m okay.” He lifted his hand in question, and when Andrew didn’t pull back, placed it on the fading bruise under Andrew’s eye. His reward for fighting back.

“A great plan,” Andrew said flatly, clasping the wrist of Neil’s hand that was still cupping his face. Not to push him away but to anchor him.

Neil brushed with his thumb over the tender skin under Andrew’s eye. “We’re free. I’d count that as a success.”

“You are really bad at math then.”

Neil closed his eyes, soaking in the feeling of being touched. He couldn’t imagine how he had ever lived without it. How he had been able to survive the year after losing his mother. How he had spent the most part of his life without people supporting him. Without friends. Without Andrew.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. Wymack approached and gave Neil a quick nod. “I am supposed to tell you that you’re required to call your team when you’ve made it to 12. Betsy says you should call her, too, if you ever feel like talking. And Dan hopes you won’t forget about your family.”

Neil blinked. “Won’t you be coming with us?”

Wymack shook his head. “I am still needed here.” He glanced over to Kevin who fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. “Things came to light that demand some clarifying.”

Neil simply nodded, not understanding but also not keen on prying. Wymack gave them both a last look with the hint of a smile. “I told you we wouldn’t let you die. Now make something out of it.” He gave Neil’s shoulder a light squeeze and Andrew another nod. “See you around.”

After Wymack left, the hovercraft took off. They landed briefly in District 3 to drop off Kevin. He was meeting with Janie to update the technology on the broadcast system. There was a long silence between the three of them until Neil said, “Take care.” Kevin took a deep breath and his parting words were, “We’ll meet again. You’re still mediocre at best with the sword.” Forget that there was no longer any need for fighting with swords.

When they were back among the clouds, Neil looked at Andrew. “Did they question you for my trial?”

“No. They knew I wouldn’t talk,” Andrew said.

Neil hummed. His eyes found the window, and he watched the landscape pass by. There was a sense of familiarity at the sight of his woods. Nothing but ruins and rubble would await them in 12, but it was also a place where his father hadn’t reached him. Where he had met half of the people important to him. Maybe it was actually some sort of home, as Wymack had called it. Or at least a part of it.

After a while, Neil remembered something else. “What about Aaron and Nicky? Are they coming back?” When Andrew didn’t answer right away, Neil turned to look at him. He was resting his head against the wall and staring at the hovercraft ceiling without even blinking. “Andrew?”

“No,” Andrew said and pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. He flipped it back and forth in his hand before flicking it aside. “Nicky’s going back to 4 with Erik. Apparently, Luther didn’t survive the rebellion. Tragic. My dear brother and his woman are going with them to help start up a hospital.” He shrugged. “Nicky wants me to call as soon as we get in.”

“It won’t be forever,” Neil mumbled.

“They are old enough to look out for themselves, I don’t care.” Neil didn’t respond. He knew Andrew cared, very much actually, but there was nothing he could say or do to help him handle this… disappointment. So he kept silent.

“Do you want to know who else won’t be there?” Andrew asked.

“No,” Neil said. “I want to be surprised.”

 

It was night when they landed on the green of the Victor’s Village. Half of the houses had lights in the windows, including Neil’s. Not Andrew’s. Not Wymack’s. Not Renee’s. Someone had built a fire in the kitchen. Neil stared at it for a while, riveted by the flames eating the wood away. Until he felt something soft brushing against his legs. He looked down and made a choking sound, half sob, half laughter. “I guess we’re home,” he mumbled and scooted a purring Sir up in his arms. When he turned around to Andrew he saw him crouched down before King and poking her little forehead.

The rest of the house welcomed them cold and empty. Somehow Neil ended up outside his room, staring in the dark and remembering the cleaver on his pillow. Light fell in the hallway from Andrew’s room and Neil turned around, leaving the memories, queasiness and paranoia behind. He headed with a pounding heart for Andrew and was accepted wordlessly in his bed. Too exhausted for anything else, Neil pulled on one of Andrew’s thick sweaters and crawled to him under the covers, the cats making themselves comfortable between them.

In the morning they were startled from their sleep by someone knocking on the front door. When Neil stumbled sleepily down the stairs, with King craving affection and food by walking between his legs and making him almost fall twice, the front door opened. Panicked, Neil wanted to grab for the next best weapon, but before he could even go for the vase with the withered flowers, Rena stepped in. They both blinked in surprise upon the other’s sight, and the next moment Neil was held in a tight embrace. She then proceeded to make eggs and toast which Neil would take upstairs to Andrew who was still lying in bed. Rena did most of the talking and Neil was just happy to listen.

They fell in a kind of routine over the next weeks. Andrew forced Neil to help clean the house since no one had lived there for half a year. Neil officially moved into Andrew’s room, keeping the other bedrooms for the bad nights. Neil’s old room turned into a storeroom. Rena came over twice a day, preparing breakfast and dinner. She and Coach Hernandez were living in one of the other houses, Rena to look out for Neil and Andrew, Coach Hernandez to start getting an overview of 12’s damage and what action should be taken for rebuilding. It went on like this, Neil and Andrew cleaned, Rena cooked, Neil and Andrew consumed. As the days went by, Neil tried to figure out his next move. There was no obstacle now to take charge of his life. But there was still Riko. Living his life, thinking he was safe.

Nicky, Matt, Dan and Allison called almost every day. Allison and Renee helped in the Capitol to get the homeless Capitol citizens from the streets. Matt and Dan were busy taking out Peacekeepers in District 2. Jean had moved to District 11 with his sister and Jeremy, far away from everything that reminded him of the Capitol, District 1 or his old home in 4. It made Neil angry on his behalf to know that Riko had taken that last piece of past away from him. Alvarez and Laila were still busy covering the aftermath, but according to Nicky they had decided to follow Jeremy and Jean eventually. Everyone was out there, building and rebuilding their lives. Only Neil felt like he was stuck.

“Just get out,” Andrew said one morning after breakfast. “I can’t stand your presence anymore.” He was kneading dough in the kitchen while Neil sat on the counter and watched his hands, covered in flour, working the mass. To know exactly what it felt like to have those hands roaming his naked skin made the whole process a lot more distracting than it ought to be.

“What am I supposed to do outside?” Neil asked puzzled.

“’The fuck do I know? It’s almost spring. Go hunting. I don’t care.”

They both hadn’t really left the house except for short trips in the garden to smoke. It felt like the safe little bubble around them would burst the second Neil would leave the village. The outside world hadn’t existed for a while, and it honestly felt good to think there was only him and Andrew and the cats. “I don’t have a bow.”

“Check down the hall,” Andrew said.

Neil made the trip down the hall. After he was done watching Andrew for several more minutes, and eventually getting flour in his hair for that, as well as on his chin and cheek where Andrew grabbed him to kiss him senseless.

In the study, where he had had talked to Ichirou Moriyama before the Anniversary Games, he found a box with the hideous green-orange sweater, the spile Wymack had sent in, the fox paw pin, and his bow and sheath of arrows. He took the sweater and the bow and left everything else untouched.

“I’m going hunting,” he told Andrew. “Tell Rena we’re getting fresh meat tonight.”

Armed, Neil headed out, intending to exit 12 through the meadow where the fence had once been. Near the square were teams of masked and gloved people with horse-drawn carts were sifting through what had laid under the snow this winter. Gathering remains.  He recognized Coach Hernandez and stopped for a quick chat, avoiding looking in the back of his cart.

All through the town and the Seam, it was the same. The reaping of the dead. As Neil neared the ruins of his old shack, the road became thick with carts. The meadow behind the fence was gone, or at least dramatically altered. A deep pit had been dug and they were lining it with bones, a mass grave for the people. Neil skirted around the hole and entered the woods at his usual place.

It was a nice day. Early spring. The woods awakening after the long winter. Neil managed to shoot a turkey and a rabbit before he felt sick and dizzy. The spurt of spontaneous energy had faded away and reminded him how weak he still was. By the time he made it back to town, Coach Hernandez had to give him a ride home in the dead people’s cart. Andrew helped him to the sofa in the living room and told him how stupid he was. King and Sir found his body heat and by the time Rena was done cooking dinner, he had made his mind up. It was time to come out of hibernation. There were still a few loose ends to tie up.

Spring had fully arrived when they showed up. First it was only Wymack, moving back in his house. Abby and Betsy turned up a few days later. One after another, Neil’s family found their way to District 12. Some only for a visit, like Nicky and Erik, others to settle down, like Wymack, Abby and Betsy. Wymack had a room prepared for Kevin who was still working in the Capitol but showed up more often after the first visit. Aaron and Katelyn intended to return as well, although not right away. Lucie, Jean’s sister tried to convince her brother to stay because of King and Sir. She would get her own cat eventually. Renee and Allison were still undecided where to go. They kept Renee’s house, just in case, but since Renee’s stepmother would live in the Capitol for her reports, and both Allison and Renee travelled from district to district, it would stay empty for a while. When they proposed Roland take the house for a while, he simply laughed. He was too much of a city boy to ever live in a place like 12. Despite, all the attractive people around were already taken.

It was after such a rare meeting with everyone at one place that Neil got the idea for the book. It started as a need for a place where he could record those things he couldn’t trust to memory. He was well aware of how easy it was to forget.

The page began with the person’s picture. A photo dug up from somewhere. Then, in his most careful handwriting, came all the details that would be a crime to forget. Sir licking Nicky’s nose. His mother’s eye color. Matt looking at Dan like she was a miracle. What Roland could do with a length of silk. Seth’s cursing while crossing the eight kilometer mark in training. Rhemann reprogramming the Holo. Robin laughing while showing Neil which berries were safe and which not. Old memories that surfaced. Kevin showing Neil how to hold a wooden sword. The fox paw pin glued to Nicky’s page. Added bits of happiness, like the photo of Aaron and Katelyn at their wedding, or the picture of Renee and Allison surrounded by a flock of children in front of a rebuilt orphanage. It turned out that one book was simply not enough.

Other people returned eventually. With the mines closed, they plowed the ashes into the earth and planted food. Machines from the Capitol broke ground for a new factory where medicine would be made. Although, no one seeded it, the meadow turned green again.

Between all of this, Neil and Andrew still traded their truths. Unlike before, with their game setting the rules, it started with smaller things. Simple facts shared without expecting anything in return. There were still days and nights where Neil woke up sweating and panting, feeling his father on his chest and fire licking at his legs. Sometimes Andrew couldn’t stand even the slightest touch and they kept apart, but never too far away. Andrew learned that Neil could say no, and Neil learned what he had already known. Andrew would stop. Without hesitation.

“Thank you,” Neil said one night. They sat on the front porch, cigarettes lit and the balmy summer breeze ruffling their hair.

“For what?” Andrew asked.

“For saving me back then. In the arena. For looking for me. For taking in Robin. For keeping me warm. For the berries. For your truths. For your trust. For—” Andrew pressed his hand over Neil’s mouth. “You talk too much.”

Neil smiled against Andrew’s hand. When he pulled back, Neil took it in between his own hands and held it up to his lips. “I’m glad I met you.”

Andrew humored him for another moment before pushing his face away.

“Took you long enough anyway.”

 

Summer was already dipping into fall back in District 12. Here, in the outskirts of District 4, Neil couldn’t see such changes, though. There were no forests that turned yellow, red and brown. Only the rushing of the ocean, bold cliffs and sand in his shoes. Panem was still recovering, and 4 was no exception. Upon his arrival, Neil had caught a glimpse of the mayor’s house. Luther and Maria had been buried under the collapsed stone after a Capitol bombing. Right now, no one bothered with removing the rubble since the smaller fishing villages had priority. It was therefore no surprise that no one had checked the district’s surrounding area yet.

According to Kevin, there was talk in the Capitol over expeditions. To discover the wilderness that separated the districts, the uncharted territories Neil had so often dreamed about escaping to. Kevin wanted to take Neil with him, made big plans about crossing the sea, exploring the unknown up north and down south. Canada and South America he called it. His room in Wymack’s house was wallpapered with cards that were several hundred years old. He wanted to make new ones, bring humanity back up to date. Or at least their part of humanity. He wouldn’t shut up about the chance of other possible cultures and countries on different continents.

For now, Neil was content with staying in 12 and building his own life. There was still so much to do, and he knew after he was done here in 4, the itch in the back of his head would finally cease. It was a lot less persistent than during his time on the run with his mother, but it was there. Letting him know that he wasn’t completely safe just yet. Neither was his family.

Ichirou hadn’t lied about the house hidden under a cliff on the beach. Other than all the bunkers and hideouts for the president, this house was only known to Moriyama family members. No one from the president’s inner circle knew about it and therefore couldn’t have revealed it to the rebels. It was a lot more secretive but also a lot less protected. It was just a house. Not an invulnerable fortress with meter-thick concrete walls and retina scans for identity validation. It was no presidential bunker and certainly no District 13.

With the ocean’s breeze and the sunny sky it was a beautiful day. Neil took off his shoes and walked the rest of the way barefoot through the wet sand. He left them by a small rock together with his backpack. The gun was a familiar weight and his hand and when he cocked it, he thought he felt his mother’s presence nearby.

The door was unlocked. Neil still knocked, after he had made sure that he couldn’t be seen from any windows. For a moment, he thought Riko might actually be cleverer than he had initially thought, but the assumption vanished just as quickly as it had come when the door was opened. An irritated voice started, “I told you to—” But was interrupted when Neil slammed the door right against the person behind it. A satisfying crunch was heard, and Neil pushed in.

Riko was holding his nose, blood spilling from between his fingers and eyes watering. It was almost comical to see his shocked expression turn truly furious after identifying Neil. Neil wished he could savor this a little longer, but Riko, as delusional and crazy as he might be, was still a victor and a dangerous fighter. In quick succession, Neil shot through Riko’s left and right knees. The pained howling was muffled by the hand still holding his nose.

“Greetings from your brother,” Neil said as he crouched down beside Riko. “Didn’t take much convincing for him to give up your location.” Realization, betrayal and fear alternated in Riko’s wide eyes before Neil put the gun against his temple. “Say hello to Drake and Proust.” Neil smiled and pulled the trigger.

The sea water was pleasantly warm as Neil lay in the shallows and let the blood wash away. Allison would be pissed if she found out he had gone to the beach without her. Neil still had enough conflicting feelings about beaches and sand and buried bones to reject any invitations. But this wasn’t so bad. It was different from the arena. Different from the place he had watched his mother die, where he had been left behind, bloody and shaking.

“Keep doing this and you will end up being eaten by a shark. And I won’t help you.”

Neil turned his head to the side and watched Andrew plunk down beside him, the legs of his pants rolled up, even though he was sitting in the water now.

“You would still wrestle the shark,” Neil replied. He smiled at the thought. “Yes or no?”

Andrew gave him a flat look. “I won’t fuck you on the beach with Riko’s body a few meters away and his blood on you.”

“I just wanted a kiss,” Neil said. He rolled his eyes and splashed a little water at Andrew. “We should probably go, anyway. My uncle said we should be back by four.”

“I don’t care what your uncle says.” He stood up nonetheless and took Neil’s outstretched hand to pull him to his feet. “You want to remove the body or not?”

Neil shook his head. “No. I don’t feel like shoveling another grave.”

“We could throw him in the sea,” Andrew said with a shrug.

“For the sharks?”

“Attach a note and make it a letter in a body. Maybe someone’s going to reply.”

With a snort, Neil followed Andrew to the rock with his shoes and the backpack. “You mean one of Kevin’s mysterious humans in South America?”

Andrew hummed noncommittally. Without looking back, Neil shouldered his pack, picked up his shoes but didn’t put them on, and linked his pinky with Andrew’s as they walked the way back to the fishing village a few kilometers down the beach.

The itch was completely gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at this! No main character died! Also I just eliminated Riko in passing haha he just became so unimportant to the story *shrug emoji*  
> Here have a list of people I planned on killing off but couldn't because I am weak:  
> \- Andrew (haha yeah that would have been a complete different story..... actually there were quite a few instances I thought about it)  
> \- Aaron (remember Prim? He would have been my Prim)  
> \- Erik (instead of Seth. Or along with him)  
> \- Matt (instead of Seth. Or along with him. Yes, I thought about it!)  
> \- Jean (in the arena. Or later instead of Seth. Or along with him)  
> Turns out, the only character safe was Neil, who in fact almost died every second chapter. And the girls!


	29. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short epilogue to make things wholesome :')

They played in the meadow. The laughing girl with the blond locks and hazel eyes, and her uncle, carrying her on his shoulders. Her twin sister tugged at her mother’s skirt, pointing at them, eager to do the same. Katelyn sent her to her father who sighed but still picked her up to follow Andrew through the grass. When the little girl with the black curly hair saw her friends having fun without her, she complained loudly to her own father. Matt scooped her up and tickled her until she was a giggling mess, accompanied by Dan’s clear laughter. She sat with Renee and Allison under the willow on a blanket, holding her big belly and shooing everyone away who wanted to lend her a hand. It was Matt’s fault that she felt like a stranded whale anyway. So it was only fair that he did all the work she was no longer able to do herself. Neil smiled when Andrew threw his niece in the air and she shrieked, “Higher! Higher!”

The girls were still too young to know. And for the others, the questions were just beginning. The arenas had been completely destroyed, the memorials built; there were no more Hunger Games. But they taught about them at school, and Matt’s and Dan’s oldest knew they had played a role in them. Neil glanced down where the boy was scribbling in a book next to him, tongue peeking out in high concentration. He wasn’t like his sister at all. Where she demanded attention, he was happy with just drifting into the background. Quiet and shy. He had never asked his parents outright about their participation in the rebellion and the Games, but he had lots of questions for Neil. Questions Neil not always had answers for. How could he tell him about that world without frightening him to death? How was he supposed to explain that he and his sister and friends were playing on a graveyard?

Matt said it would be okay. They had each other. They could make them understand in a way that would make them braver. And when Neil watched Andrew with the twins, he thought Matt might be right. They had each other. They had made it through this time. He was no longer surviving but living. The thought still overwhelmed him sometimes. Even ten years later he caught himself thinking this couldn’t be real. He was just dreaming or hallucinating. Maybe even dead. That was when he made a list in his head of every moment of happiness he knew had been real. And should he doubt his memory once in a while, he had the book. And Andrew. Andrew with his perfect recalling of every second in his life. It wasn’t easy to replace what felt like a life time of trauma with good things, but on days like this, Neil thought they managed pretty well. He had a promise to fulfill, after all. It wasn’t to someone in particular, more like countless little fragments, collected over the years, that eventually added up to a big, vivid picture.

To live. For those who had had to die. For Robin and Rhemann. For those who had let him stay, even with all those ugly truths revealed. For his family and friends. For Andrew, who had not only given him something to build his life around, but also had been the reason for all the other wonderful things that had entered his life. For giving him a chance. And of course, for himself. Because it was what he deserved. Because he had earned it. Even if being a real person was much more complicated and confusing than hiding in the shadows, Neil wouldn’t have it any other way. He had been found.

 

The balmy breeze drifting through the room brought the smell of the mild summer night with it. Freshly cut grass, the last remains of a bonfire and the sweet scent of blossoming flowers. He was still damp from the shower and leaned against the doorframe of their bedroom, only a towel around his hips. The idiot was lying on his stomach, wearing nothing but his underwear and writing in the stupid book of his. Even years later he would pull the thing from the drawer and write the day’s events down.

He had probably noticed Andrew watching him but made no indication to acknowledge him. That was fine with Andrew, he could appreciate the silence, especially with a view like this. Neil’s hair had gotten longer again, hiding the freckles on his neck Andrew liked to count with kisses from time to time. While they were dense on his cheeks and nose, they became fewer down his shoulders and back. Especially prominent were the ones over his tailbone, though. They vanished under the waistband of his underwear, but Andrew knew exactly where they led to. Frowning over the feeling of muted softness pooling in his gut, Andrew crossed over to the bed where Neil was chewing on his pen and crawled onto it to place a quick kiss on the freckled dimples of his lower back. They were long past verbal yes’s and no’s and instead trusted  each other to know when it was appreciated and when to hold back. Casual touches and kisses had become the norm, and the infuriating, maddening thing about Neil was that he somehow always knew. And if he was uncertain he asked. He never assumed. He knew or he asked.

There were mornings when it felt impossible to Andrew to take pleasure in anything. Mostly because of the past. But sometimes because he was afraid  _ this _ could be taken away from him. He hated how he no longer had to find a roof to feel something. Plenty of little pests had sneaked their way into his life. The worst were Neil and the girls. It was annoying that he was already looking forward to having them over for a few days while Aaron and his woman visited Nicky in 4.

Beneath him, Neil made an appreciating sound. “Do that again.”

Still so responsive. So eager for touches. Andrew kissed the same spot again. And again. And again.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Neil said smugly. He had his head turned to look at Andrew. A sight that sparked something hot in Andrew.

“Would be better if you’d shut up,” Andrew replied.

“Make me.” Still a smart-mouth.

Neil laughed when Andrew pulled him down by his hips and flipped him over so he was on his back, legs already spreading in an obvious invitation. Despite his best offers, getting Neil to shut up was still an almost impossible endeavor. But after ten years, Andrew had one or two things up his sleeve that usually did the trick.

Sometimes he wondered over the fact that he had made it past twenty. That he had stopped counting the seconds, had stopped viewing every day as a repetition of the other. That, despite the bad ones, the days he couldn’t feel anything or too much at once, he knew there would also be days like this one again. Where he felt something else other than anger or fear. A calmness that had the rhythm of Neil’s heartbeat, the sound of children’s laughter and the purr of a cat in his lap.

Contentment, Betsy had told him. Maybe even happiness. Whatever. He sometimes looked at Neil and the twins and knew there was something else, too. Neil had said it to him before. The girls threw the words around very freely; it was probably their mother’s influence. And Andrew, Andrew thought about it during moments like this. When Neil was pulling him closer and closer, laughing, smiling and sighing Andrew’s name in his ear.

_ I love you, too. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! We're done!   
> ..... or are we? Since I grew very fond of this AU, I thought about a little special for you beautiful readers. You can leave me a comment here or message me on [vaasmontefuckyou](http://vaasmontefuckyou.tumblr.com/) if you'd like to read about something set in this universe. For example certain scenes from another character's pov, scenes that were only mentioned but never fully written or even some kind of prequels (Andrew seeing Neil for the first, other Games, Jean and his sister, to name a few examples). I would love to write some more about this world! Of course, this could take a while since I am already planning new proects (hint: they are all Andreil and the next one is for Halloween), but when I find the time I would update this fic once in a while.  
> For everyone who is not interested, the story is hereby finished. Thank you so much for keeping me company on this journey♥ I am still amazed over the response this fic got. I love you all so much, especially the people who left so many comments! Have my endless gratitude!


End file.
